


Reading into it

by ThatWeirdGuyWithIssues



Series: Ford is a... ‘friend’ [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Bottom Ford Pines, College, Deaf Character, Eventual Smut, Ford is a clueless cutie, M/M, Period Specific Homophobia, Set in 1970s, Slow Burn, Young Ford Pines, maybe idk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:22:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27751495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatWeirdGuyWithIssues/pseuds/ThatWeirdGuyWithIssues
Summary: Here at Backupsmore University, nothing makes any fucking sense, especially for someone like Stanford Pines.After a certain library assistant catches Ford’s eye, he finds himself infatuated with the man.Soon, the man will prove infatuated with Ford as well.
Relationships: Ford Pines/Original Character(s), Ford Pines/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Ford is a... ‘friend’ [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2116440
Comments: 10
Kudos: 10





	1. A friendly smile in a sea of idiots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanford's draw to weirdness will bring him to an ally in a terrible place.

The tired, forced smile was the same expression on nearly every Backupsmore University student ID attached around their respective student's neck. When the photo was taken, then printed onto the cheap plastic and given to Stanford, he could hardly believe that was himself. The broken look of his face stared back up at him as he followed the arrows intended to lead the freshmen to the library.

He had already put his things in his dorm, and now was preparing to adjust to this new turn in his life.

Ford slipped the cheap lanyard around his neck as he entered the library. It was about as small as he expected, but otherwise, it was pretty nice. The line for picking up the needed textbooks was stupid long, and everyone in it looked fuming. A guy near the front was yelling at the lady behind the desk, and it took Ford a moment to realize the woman was asleep, and not waking up anytime soon. Ford rolled his eyes, before spotting the side of the library meant for personal reading. He decided to browse a little, and hope someone would come to wake the librarian up.

Happy to find an aisle on science fiction, Stanford looked the books over. The selection wasn't half bad, and he had to wonder why a school filled with hippies and dropouts had such a collection. There were even some works he hadn't read before! Toward the end of the aisle, Ford noticed a cart that was usually used when putting books back in their place. There was no one around, so he approached it. A smile spread across his face as he picked up a worn copy of a book he'd remembered well. He thumbed through the first few pages, thinking back to his first read of it.

"See somethin' you like?" A raspy voice startled Stanford, causing him to drop the book. He stumbled back a little as his eyes found the source of the voice.

A tall, skinny guy with a buzz cut, wearing John Lennon glasses, black slacks, and a white button-up, backed up a step, "hey, buddy. Didn't mean to scare you."

Ford flushed, he figured probably from embarrassment (definitely not because he _did_ see something he liked). He chuckled nervously, straightening himself out, "sorry," he adjusted his glasses, "just kind of um... startled me a little, that's all."

The guy laughed, "no worries." He picked up the book Stanford had dropped. "Ah, _20,000 Leagues Under the Sea_ ," he read the cover, smiling fondly at the book.

"Ha-have you read it before?" Ford asked, a little cautiously. He was used to people making fun of his tastes, but the look on this guy's face made him hopeful.

He chuckled, "read it? Man, I've poured over this thing. I adore all of Jules Verne's works," he handed it back to Stanford.

Ford gasped, "really? The first time I read it, I stayed up for days dissecting it."

"Wow," the guy smiled. "It's so refreshing to have someone smart in here," he grabbed a book off the cart and put it in its place on the shelf. Did he work here? He looks like a student, age-wise.

Ford chuckled, rubbing at the back of his neck at the comment. "Well, it's nice to see that not everyone here is uncultured."

He put another book on the shelf, "so what are you doing all the way back here already, freshman?"

Ford's free hand went into the pockets of his khakis, the other hugging the book to him, "that obvious?"

The tall guy gave him a chuckle, nodding as he leaned on the cart, "the upperclassmen avoid the library into the evening to avoid the newbies, yaknow. And the new ones never really make it back here until a few days in."

"Well, I wasn't planning on looking at books yet," he shrugged, "but the librarian lady is sleeping at her desk so the line for textbooks isn't moving at all."

The guy paused at this and groaned. "You're kidding, she's the only one up front?" Ford gave a confused nod. Running his hand down his face, the grinning, charming, guy instantly looked as tired as the rest of the people in his school. "Son of a bitch," he sighed. He looked at Ford, "I'm sorry, excuse me." He headed past him, and toward the front. Stanford watched him make his way across the library, a woman Ford had seen earlier at the assembly, the head of something or other, grabbed the tall guy by the forearm.

"Where the hell have you been?" She hissed in his ear.

"Well since I wasn't allowed in until today, I've been assembling the entire library all fucking morning," he yanked his arm away from her, heading behind the desk. "Sam said he had this."

"Well, Sam quit," the woman returned.

"It's the first day, he can't—" he sighed. "Fuck it, let's just get through this." He promptly pulled the chair under the sleeping librarian away from the counter, standing in her place to begin checking the textbooks out. The crowd cheered at his arrival, and at the way, he quickly made his way through the line. As he worked he leaned over the room's intercom mic, "sorry about the wait, folks. I'm gonna try and get you all out of here as quickly as possible. Please be ready with your ID cards, cash, etcetera."

As he leaned away from the mic, the woman grabbed it. "Mrs. Roberts," she pointed to the softly snoring librarian, "may be listed as the librarian of BMU, but if you need anything to get done in here, this is who you find," she pointed to the tall guy.

During her speech, Stanford had grabbed the textbooks on his list and gotten into the much shorter line. With the tall guy working, it wasn't long before he was standing at the counter. The guy smiled at him, becoming charismatic again. "Hey, sorry about all this," he said.

Ford shrugged. "Does this happen a lot?"

"Every. Single. Day," he sighed, scanning Ford's books and ID.

As Ford handed him the money for the books, his hand gently grazed against the stranger's. Ford flushed again, trying to keep his hands from sight. The guy didn't seem to notice as he counted the bills, pushing the books to Stanford. He asked for a signature, which Ford gave, thankful that the guy was preoccupied with gathering papers and other stuff, not looking at his hands.

After that, the guy offered a smile, which Ford returned, before he headed on his way.

———

It had only been a week since classes started, and Ford felt like he was going nowhere, fast. His roommate was a fucking insufferable dumbass who called himself Barf. Barf was a big dude, could crush Stanford with his bare hands if he wanted to, he dealt drugs, and he never wore pants. Not to mention, the guy would not stop talking about Ford's hands and refused to call him by anything but 'six-fingers'. He was always listening to terrible records, horribly singing along, and smoking marijuana constantly.

Tonight, Ford had a paper to write and was frankly fed up with Barf. All at once, Ford shoved his textbooks, notes, writing utensils, and other supplies in a messenger bag, and stormed out of the hot-boxed room.

Not knowing where else to go, Ford headed down the library. At least it'd be quiet in there.

It was only about 5:00, so it should still be open. He hadn't gone back since getting his textbooks. He found an odd hope at the back of his mind, wondering if he'd see that tall librarian guy again. He shook it off as wanting to connect with another intellectual— nothing more.

He entered to find it near empty, the librarian woman asleep as if she hadn't moved for the whole week. Looking around, he was a little disappointed he hadn't seen the tall guy. He found a table, and took a seat, quietly taking out his books and notes. He tapped the page with his pencil, etching out a few sentences.

After a couple of hours, he'd made good progress on his paper, he was hyper-focused now. After finishing the third page, he sat back for a moment. He was a little startled to see the book cart so close, accompanied by the tall librarian. He looked so tired, his hands shaking as he places some books on some high shelves. Ford also noticed that his hands were cut and bruised. The guy turned to grab more books and must've felt eyes on him. He smiled at Ford, but as he faced him, a large, bruised-up gash on his cheek became visible. His tired expression quickly became a friendly grin, he nodded a greeting to Ford.

Stanford waved back, hoping he would come over to chat.

The guy peeked toward the front desk, probably making sure the woman behind it was still asleep. Then he strode over to Ford, either reading his mind or maybe just as hopeful to chat.

"Whatcha doin' in here so late already? Midterms aren't for another couple of months, you know," he teased, keeping his voice hardly above a whisper.

Ford let out a small laugh, "I've got a paper to write, and my roommate is the worst."

"I see," he nodded. He turned to check the lady at the desk again, and Ford noticed something he hadn't seen the last time they'd talked: a hearing aid in his left ear.

Heforced his eyes down at his notes, as to not stare, "it's worse because I applied for a single room."

The guy chuckled, "yeah, the only way to get a single room at BMU is if your roommate drops out."

"How're my chances?" He looked back up into his green eyes.

"Well, about 30% of freshman drop out within the first semester, and Barf certainly fits the profile," he shrugged.

Ford stared at him for a second, "how'd you—"

"The ass won't bother to use your name, so it's not that hard to figure out," he said.

"Oh," Ford instinctually pulled his hands under the table.

"I'm sorry he's such a dick," he put a hand on Ford's shoulder. "I'm sure you have a much less offensive name," the guy prompted, changing the subject.

He chuckled a little, "Stanford Pines, you can call me Ford, though," he offered a hand.

"Louis Parrish," the guy shook his hand, no side-eye at the hand, no uncomfortably touching the hand— it was nice. "I'll let you get back to your paper, I gotta get back to work too." He smiled, "I'll see you around?"

"Yeah," Ford grinned. "I'll be around," the words came out a little awkwardly, but Louis nodded and went back to work.

Ford smiled to himself, before returning to his paper.

———

Ford found himself going out of his way to be in the library as much as possible. Barf just got more and more insufferable, starting to bring girls into the dorm without so much as a warning. Ford couldn't unsee walking in after astronomy class to find Barf and some girl going at it like wild beasts.

The library seemed to be the only place in this stupid school that made any fucking sense. Here, Ford could work in relative silence, read anything he liked and had an occasional conversation with Louis, the tall librarian. It seemed the more they talked, the more Ford wished to do so.

Usually, it was just casual interactions. Short conversations you'd have with a coworker, "how are you?", "what are you reading?", etc. It became apparent to Ford rather quickly that Louis was far more intelligent, cultured, and creative than he let on. Ford was so intrigued by this man. He didn't seem to exist outside of the library. Though, the thought occurred to Stanford that it's possible Louis was often in common student places, even relatively close, and he just may not have noticed. Ford made an effort to keep his head down on campus after the incident in anatomy.

After the professor had asked the class about bones in the hand, Ford had eagerly recited the names of each. It didn't take long for some girls sitting near him to start loudly commenting about what a freaky nerd he was. It wasn't like these comments were new, but it got around rather quickly. It just seemed newer and nastier than it had been back in Glass Shard Beach. At least there, everyone grew up together, it wasn't a novelty in the slightest by high school. Here, he wasn't getting beaten up like before, but people just seemed to have an air of... something different and unwelcome about it.

Maybe that's another reason he was drawn to Louis. Louis was also an anomaly.

Something that began to eat at Stanford was the fact that despite the near-complete lack of physical bullying when it came to himself (with only the occasional shove or shoulder check and nothing more), Louis always seemed to be getting badly beaten up. Every time Ford sees him he has some new cut or bruise. Maybe he was in some kind of sport? Underground fighting, perhaps? Maybe he often went to bars when off the clock. He looked old enough to legally drink.

Alternatively, was he bullied here at school? Ford wasn't even certain he was anything more than a librarian here, and why would students beat on staff without repercussions? And why would they do that to Louis and not him? Because Louis's 'abnormality' affects the way he navigates the world, perhaps? Because spotting the hearing aid behind his ear was easier than counting Ford's fingers? Or maybe they had a reason Ford couldn't see? Maybe Louis had done something horrible in the past? That scared Ford. What if his only ally in this awful place was worse than the people who used to torment him back home? 

Mulling over this once again, fingers entwined in his curly hair, he mindlessly tapped his pencil against his notebook.

"Your Morse code needs some work," a teasing voice startled Ford.

"Huh?" He looked up to see Louis, holding a doughnut box in one hand, and two coffee mugs in the other.

"You're tapping your pencil like you're trying to send out an S.O.S.," he chuckled, pulling a chuckle from Ford too. There was no way this guy was a monster, Ford decided. "You mind if I sit? You look like you could use a break," he smiled warmly.

Ford nodded, probably a bit too frantically. He slid some books out of the way for him as he sat down. He'd never been this close to him before and found himself elated by the thought. Louis slid one of the mugs over to Ford, the heavenly smell of good coffee wafting up to him. He gave him a puzzled look.

"We aren't really supposed to give out staff coffee, or whatever, but somebody bought doughnuts for the underlings and me," Louis referred to the four underclassmen that had taken jobs assisting in the library. Louis opened the box, a couple of glazed doughnuts inside. "I figured you might like a coffee and doughnut break."

Ford's eyes glowed, his stomach audibly sounding off at the idea of food— when had he last ate? He then beamed up at the tall librarian, sitting so close now.

A friendly amused smile appeared on Louis's face, "go on," he encouraged.

At that, Ford grabbed one of the doughnuts and happily bit into it. Living off of instant noodles and granola bars made a small offering like this seem like the man had given Ford a kidney. Once he'd devoured it, Louis sipping his coffee next to him, amused by the freshman, Ford gulped the coffee. "Oh my god," he huffed.

Louis chuckled, "good?"

"Louis, you're a saint."

The two shared a giggle.

"What're you working on?" Louis asked.

"Ah, I have a paper for ancient human history," he shrugged.

Louis chuckled, "ah, I see." He looked over a couple of books on the table, "Greek gods, very exciting stuff."

Ford hummed.

"So, any cool plans for the weekend?" Louis asked.

"Huh?" Oh, it's Friday, he remembered. "Oh, not really. I think Barf has plans to head out though, so I might actually get some time in my dorm," he shrugged.

"I see," Louis nodded. Ford figured he'd probably got that he wasn't super close with his family by now and that he wouldn't really want to go see them. If he didn't get that, he didn't ask.

"Do you have plans?" Ford asked.

"Well, now that we finally have underlings, and they've been trained enough between them, I can finally have a weekend off."

"It takes four people to replace you?"

He chuckled, "kind of, actually."

"Wow," Ford mused. This guy was incredible. "So what are you gonna do with the weekend off?"

"I'm gonna head up to my sister and her husband's place 'bout an hour north. See my son and niece."

Ford smiled, "I didn't know you were a dad. How old is he?"

"He's six," Louis told him. "He's a crazy smart little shit too, reads people like books," he chuckled affectionately.

How old is Louis? Ford found himself wondering. "Wow. It must really suck being stuck down here away from him, then."

"Yeah," he sighed. "I miss him so much. I normally get to talk to him on the phone before he goes to school, but not being able to see him just tears me apart, man."

"Wow," Ford found himself wanting to ask another question, unsure why he wanted the answer so badly. But before he could ask, a voice interrupted.

"Hey, Parrish?" Mark, one of the new library hands tapped Louis on the shoulder, "we're ready to close up, Sarah's gonna wake June up, so you might wanna clean all this up," he motioned to the table.

"Gotcha, gimme five, 'Kay?"

He nodded and went off somewhere.

"Well, I hope Barf leaves you alone so you can have a nice weekend," Louis smiled.

Ford chuckles, "thanks. You have a nice weekend too. Safe travels."

"Thanks," he patted Ford's shoulder. Gathering the mugs and boxes he jogged to the break room.

Ford smiled to himself as he packed up for the night.


	2. A little help from a friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford witnesses Louis's torment for the first time.

Ford and Louis continued their small casual conversations often. Every day, Ford was excited to see the tall librarian, even if they didn't talk much. He was just so infatuated by the man, in a way he couldn't really explain. He had such a warm manner, charming, funny. Sometimes when Louis would bid him goodnight he'd grab Ford's shoulder, hand lingering. He couldn't tell if Louis felt a similar interest in him at all, but he did go out of his way to talk to Ford whenever he could. 

Stanford was again working at his usual table. He hadn't really seen Louis yet, but he usually doesn't come talk until close to closing time. 

Suddenly, there was a quiet giggle from behind some shelves, followed by a "shhh, do you wanna get caught?" 

"Please, June is sound asleep, and that fairy guy is as deaf as a brick," the girl whispered back. 

Were they talking about Louis?

"Oh, yeah," he whispered back.

"Hey, guys," as if on cue, Louis's voice came a bit louder, "I know the encyclopedias are too hot to handle, but must you get handsy between A-Z?"

"What're you gonna do, princess?" The guy spoke after a moment. Ford could see the jock stand through the bookshelves. 

"I'm gonna  _ ask _ you to go neck somewhere else," he said, calmly. "There are plenty of more private places to do so."

The jock scoffed, "we all know you're well-acquainted with those spots."

Ford started to get up from his table, getting closer to make sure it didn't escalate. 

"Get his glasses," the girl covered her mouth as she whispered, probably so Louis wouldn't hear her or read her lips. 

Ford panicked, rounding the corner to watch the guy pull the glasses off of Louis's face, and the girl whip out some pepper spray, spraying it into his face. 

He hissed, falling backward, "shitfuck," he crashed into a bookshelf, as the couple ran off. 

Ford ran to him, kneeling beside him as he slid to the floor, Louis was wiping his eyes with his sleeve. Ford reached out, grabbing his arms, the guy flinched away from him immediately. "Hey, hey," Ford began, "I'm not gonna hurt you. C'mon, let's get you to the bathroom," he gently grabbed Louis's forearms, helping him up. Swooping down, he grabbed the John Lennon glasses from the floor, tucking one leg of them into his shirt for now. He reached to wipe his eyes again, groaning quietly. Ford stopped his hands, "you don't wanna do that. You'll only rub it in." The guy nodded, letting Stanford take him out of the library and down the hall. Ford got him into the men's room, bringing him to a sink. 

He turned on the water, guiding him down under the faucet, but Louis pulled back, "wait." He straightened up, pulling something from his ear, "can't get this wet. I won't be able to hear you," he leaned under the water. "I won't be able to read lips until I can get my glasses— if I can see at all after this."

Ford stood by his acquaintance, a hand gently resting on his back, as he thought about how he could better help him. After a while of rinsing his eyes, opening them up under the stream of water, Louis lifted his head from the sink. He washed his hands thoroughly, squinting at Stanford for a second, seeming to confirm who he was. He smiled a little, "Ford, I thought that was you."

Ford smiled, seeing how Louis's mood changed after the confirmation. Ford started to reply but remembered Louis couldn't hear him. His hands moved before he could think, asking in sign language, "I heard the commotion and I came to make sure they didn't hurt you." He paused, trying not to ramble, "Do you... Feel any better now?"

A delighted smile spread across Louis's face, "yeah, thanks," he spoke as he signed. After pressing a towel gently into the reddened skin, he looked back up to Ford. 

"Can you see okay?" He signed, before correcting himself, "I mean, enough?" 

"Well, you're right in front of me, and you look very... Blobby," he squinted. "But I think I understand you well enough. My glasses are probably back in the library," he told him. Ford noticed how 'normal' his voice sounded even without the hearing aid. 

"Oh," Ford gasped, grabbing the black-framed glasses from his collar, and gently slid them onto Louis's face. 

He gave a surprised but fond smile, "thanks."

"Has this... Happened to you before?"

He sighed, "yeah, the girls on campus think it's funny. They think it will someday completely blind me."

"Jesus," he said out loud. "I'm so sorry."

He just gave a dismissive gesture "there's no evidence to suggest it will." Ford decided to let it go. 

Stanford smiled a little, "cmon," he linked his arm into the librarian's. "Let's get you back."

He chuckled too, "so why are you helping me again?"

"Well, I'm no stranger to this kind of stuff," Ford shrugged, sliding so their elbows were hooked instead of his hand resting in his elbow so he could use both hands to sign. "I got beat up a lot back home. I always had someone to look after me, and well... You seem nice enough. And it seems like you don't really have anyone looking after you right now."

"Thanks, man. Saved my ass," he smiled. "I'm sorry you got beat up a lot, Ford."

"Well, I was never pepper-sprayed," he joked a little. 

Louis laughed as they pushed back into the library— nearly knocking into the wide-awake head librarian. 

"Parrish," she gripped his ear, "where the hell were you?" She didn't wait for an answer as she saw his arm linked with Stanford's. "You're slacking here to go out with boys? What did I tell you about forcing your ' _ lifestyle _ ' on the students here?" 

Ford was instantly stunned and pissed— so much so that her words didn't sink in for Ford. How the hell could this woman berate him like this when she was unconscious all day every day? He'd never seen her move let alone awake.

"June!" Louis knew she was rattling off about whatever, and tried to warn her. "Please just let me—"

"Where is your hearing aid? You know you're required to wear it in here," she drug him by the ear away from Stanford. Louis caught his gaze, signing 'sorry'. Why was Louis apologizing to him? 

"I'll be here," Ford signed quickly before they disappeared into the office. Somewhere among his thoughts he wondered where the four library hands were, why none of them had watched out for Louis, had they gone home? Leaving Louis to try and explain the situation. 

Through the blinds of the office window, he as the woman continued scolding him. He replied, talking and signing. He told her about getting pepper-sprayed and explained that the boy (Ford) helped him. As he was starting to explain why he had taken out his hearing aid, she reached up and batted his signing hands. She seemed to scold him for using sign. He only looked more restrained as the berating went on like he was holding back. Finally, she said something, to which he sighed, took the hearing aid from his pocket and put it in his ear. He moved his jaw, adjusting to the change of pressure. She snapped her fingers into the mic, making him flinch. She seemed to bark orders at him, before grabbing her stuff and heading out for the day, glancing at Ford as she went. 

Stanford watched Louis collapse into one of the chairs in the office. He sighed and held his head in his hands for a while. Soon, the tall guy grabbed his stuff, a red denim jacket, and a messenger bag. Then he headed out to Ford. 

"Everything okay?" Ford asked. 

Louis let out a humorless chuckle but smiled at Ford anyway. "Good thing she knows she needs me. I can't get fired."

Ford didn't know what to say to that. 

"Hey, you wanna get a drink?" He asked, before quickly realizing his mistake, "right, you're too young, sorry."

Ford chuckled a little. 

"What about the diner? Grab some grub?"

Ford just about beamed, but then, "I don't have any money."

Louis gave a dismissive gesture, "it's on me, dude. Least I can do after you help me out as you did."

"O-okay then," he agreed happily.

Louis locked up quickly before the pair began to walk to the nearby diner. The town wasn't very large, which meant everything was pretty close. Louis lit a cigarette as they walked, offering one to Ford, but he didn't take it. The cool autumn air a bit colder than Ford had anticipated. He was shivering pretty quickly. 

"You cold?" Louis asked.

"A little," he shrugged. Part of him hoped Louis would pull him closer, but what he really did seemed even better. 

Louis took off his jacket, "here." He tucked it around Ford's shoulders. 

"W-won't you be cold?"

"Eh, I'm fine," he smiled. 

Ford tried to suppress his smile as he put the other man's jacket on fully. He tried to be subtle about taking in Louis's smell, aftershave, books, and cigarettes. Maybe it was a little weird, like something your girlfriend might do, not a male friend, but right now he didn't care. 

Once at the diner, they had coffee and pancakes, sharing stories. Ford told Louis about Glass Shard Beach, of his mother's career as a phone psychic, which seemed to pique Louis's interest. 

"She would insist on hearing about our dreams, and reading our palms and stuff," Ford remembered. "I think she even bought her lies."

"That's so cool," Louis mused. 

Louis told Ford a little about his sister, Marcy, and her husband, Nate. Telling him a little more about his son, too. 

Ford learned his name was Vernon, "after Jules Verne of course." Louis explained. "We all call him Fern, though," he chuckled. 

"Why's that?" Ford rested his chin on his fist, a soft smile on his lips. 

"Oh, get this," Louis smiled. "So Fern was maybe two or three at the time. Marcy and I had left for groceries while Nate watched him and Abby, their daughter. When we come back, Nate and Abby are completely passed out on the couch, but where is little Vernon? Well, Marcy loves plants and had this big beautiful Fern in the dining room. We found the little weirdo half inside the pot, digging through it with his hands," Louis began to laugh. "Just dirt everywhere, up to his elbows, in his hair, on his face, an absolute mess. So we started calling him Fernon, and it just... Stuck," he smiled. 

"Oh my gosh," Ford laughed. He would go on to learn that Fern is in the first grade and is super smart. He loves comic books and collects rocks. 

After a bit, Ford finally asked the question that's been burning in his mind. He wasn't quite sure what made him want to know so bad, but he just did. "Can I ask you something, Louis?" 

"Sure."

"Are you married?" 

"No," he was pretty much expecting the question. "Not anymore."

"Divorce?" He asked cautiously. 

"Yeah, we were just rushed into it, yaknow? Marriage," he sipped his coffee. "Our families insisted we settle down and have a family so quickly, that we couldn't stop to think about what we wanted."

"What did you want?"

"She didn't want a husband and I didn't want a wife," he said simply. "She didn't want a child right then and I adored Fern. She wanted a career in music, which meant traveling, I wanted a job to support us, which meant going to school."

Ford nodded, "I see." 

"Yeah, she's off touring and living it up with all the lovers she'd like and no responsibility," he chuckled. 

"And you?" 

He scoffed, but not without humor, "I work at  _ Backupsmore's _ library, struggling to get my PhDs. I can hardly see my son sometimes because I'm the only one that does any fucking work around there." He sighed leaning back against the diner booth, "I mean, at least next semester they're gonna actually pay me."

"They don't pay you?" He screeched. 

"Well technically, but your average library assistant is only paid in ways that go towards education, like working in the kitchen or on cleaning. Your average hand's work pays for dorm space, tuition, and textbooks," he explained. 

Ford knew BMU didn't employ many people, saving money on not properly paying anyone who could do something any broke student could. This also helped keep education costs down for many. Ford had briefly considered a library job but decided if he spent more time on his studies he'd be able to get out of this stupid school more quickly. 

"However, since I've proved that it takes four to five people to do everything I do, and it's been consistent for four years— well, three. The first year I had a couple people helping me showing me the ropes. So now they've decided to forgive my past debt to the school. Four years of school, including this one, paid for."

Ford furrowed his brows, "can they do that?"

"Apparently," he shrugged. "They figured I'm there more than June, I carry that library on my back, I should finally get properly compensated for my work." He sighed, "they're really just trying to bribe me to drop my majors, and take June's job instead."

"Wow," so he's definitely a student, Ford realized. "What are your majors?"

"Clinical psychology, and experimental psychology," he said, proudly. 

"Oh," he was honestly expecting something more... Respectable. Ford saw psychology like computer sciences, as a waste of time. He cleared his throat, "are you going to take the job?"

"Well, I wouldn't get paid nearly as much as if I was a clinical psychologist, but I would be able to get a place and have Fern up here by next school year. I'm seriously considering it," he looked at his hands, "how can I help the world if I can't help my favorite person in the world, you know?" 

"I think you should go for it," Ford told him. "I think you're already saving the asses of broke college students by working the way you do," he smiled. "Plus, then I wouldn't have to spend my last few years here without you," he shrugged. Louis chuckled. "Besides, why haven't they gotten rid of June already? Does she do anything?"

"She's got tenure," Louis shrugged. "Been working at BMU since it opened. All she does is run the place like a tyrant and sleep," he sighed. 

"Has she always been like that?"

"A tyrant? Completely. Sleeping? Not when she was younger, but since I've been here, pretty much. I just kind of... Stepped up, I guess."

"Well, someone had to," Ford smiled. Louis shrugged.

The waitress came over, putting the bill in front of Louis. 

Louis sighed, "it's getting late," he checked his watch. "Should probably get you back."

Ford sighed too, "yeah, you're right."

Taking out his wallet, Louis set some cash down and stood. Stanford followed him out, and they began the walk back. Ford found himself tucking further into Louis's jacket, having not taken it off since he put it on. By now, he'd forgotten he was even wearing it. 

"Thanks for keeping me company," Louis smiled. "It was really nice."

"Yeah," Ford smiled back at him. "This was nice. You're so..." Ford trailed off, not wanting to sound weird. He really did wish to be close to the tall librarian and didn't want to scare him off. He was so... Incredible, and enchanting, brilliant...

"You're pretty 'so' too, Ford," he winked. 

Ford found his face burning at that, he let out a giggle. This was silly, but it was nice. He really couldn't put a finger on why he was so interested in this guy, or why he wanted Louis to think he was interesting too. Why did he get so excited to see him every day? He just... Had never felt like this before. 

Before Ford knew it, they were back on campus, Louis asking, "which building is yours?"

Ford told him, and Louis walked him there. "We um... We should do this again?" How the fuck do people make friends?

Louis gave a surprised smile, "yeah. Yeah, that sounds nice. Maybe after closing Friday? I don't have to get to the bus station until late."

"Bus station?" Ford echoed.

"Yeah," he adjusted his glasses, "I don't have a car."

"Oh." Ford shook his head, "Friday sounds good," Ford ginned, success. 

"Cool. So, I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah, goodnight Louis."

He put a hand on Ford's shoulder, "goodnight Ford."

The two parted ways, and Stanford began to climb the stairs to his dorm. It wasn't until he went inside that he noticed he was still wearing Louis's denim jacket, still smelling like aftershave and cigarettes. Oops. He really hadn't meant to take it, despite the odd feeling of comfort it gave. 

He snuck in the dorm, Barf fast asleep. Sitting on his own bed, he pulled the jacket off and held it in his lap. It was brick red and very worn. It was a little frayed around the sleeve's edges, the edges of the lapels, and the elbows. The buttons were scuffed, and there was a rip an inch or two long under the left breast pocket. Above the right breast pocket, there were five safety pins, Ford assumed for safekeeping. He ran this thumbs over the fabric, smiling. 

He laid back on the bed, the jacket still in his arms, replaying the night in his mind over and over until he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They say that if you're out with a same gendered friend and the wait staff put the check in front of you, you've been crowned top.


	3. "That way"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford learns something new about Louis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw for homophobia and being outed, very small mention of sexual assault

The next couple of days passed as normal. Ford, when not sleeping or in class, would spend his time at the library. There he would chat with Louis when he could. Ford had returned his jacket the morning after he'd accidentally stolen it. Louis didn't need to know he woke up curled around it, his face pressed into the fabric. 

It was Thursday, the day before they were going to hang out again. Ford was working on another paper when Louis came by, sporting a fresh black eye. 

Stanford smiled at him, "greetings, Louis."

"Hey, Ford," he leaned his forearms on the top of a chair. "Whatcha working on?" 

"Oh, you know, the usual, got a paper to write," Ford shrugged. 

Louis hummed, "what about?"

Ford brushed some eraser shavings away from his paper, straightening the pages as he spoke, "this one's for abnormal psychology."

"Ah," Louis nodded. "I'm not excited about writing mine."

Ford looked puzzled, then realized, "oh, I forgot you were a student for a second," he gave an awkward chuckle. 

Louis paused, before breaking into quiet laughter, "Ford, I'm in your abnormal psych class."

"Oh," Ford said. "When do you even have time for the work?"

"Well, that's some of why we needed the underlings. In most classes I have to get a synopsis on the side from teachers, since attending lectures isn't easy. Most professors understand my work in the library is massively important. They would rather they be able to trust their students' ability to find needed materials in here with the small cost of one on one discussions with me," Louis explained. "Professor Jackass," he gestured to a stray psych book signaling he was talking about professor Jackson, "is the only teacher that refuses to cut me any breaks because of my work here. So I kind of make his library trips a living hell," he shrugged. 

"What's his problem?" Ford asked. 

Louis looked honestly puzzled. "You... You don't know?"

"Know what?" Ford asked. 

He seemed to realize something, whatever it was sinking in, he looked almost _pained_. "That's why you're so comfortable with me," he seemed to say it more to himself. He looked up at Ford. Sadness and fear in his eyes, "I um," he cleared his throat. "I should help them, uh, close up," he looked away as he got up from the table, rubbing his arm. He refused to look at Ford. 

Ford panicked, "whoa, hey," he stood and put a hand on Louis's shoulder, "Louis, I didn't mean to upset you." After a second, Louis looked at him. "Whatever it is, you don't have to tell me."

He opened his mouth to say something, then decided against it. "Ford, I—" he shook his head. 

"Louis, look at me," Ford prompted. "You're the sanest and kind person in this entire dump. I've made up my mind about that," maybe this was too forward. "You don't have to tell me, but... If you needed to talk, I'd be here to listen."

He was quiet for a beat. "There are things... About me. You're gonna hear about them eventually." He looked down, "I doubt you'll feel that way about me once you know... What I really am," he whispered. 

Now was one of those times where Ford wished he could read minds. What was it? Why would it change Ford's opinion on him so drastically? Was it the same reason he got beat up? "Well, what if I don't believe any of the gossip I could hear? What if I only believe what you're willing to tell me?"

Louis looked at him for a moment, and a hopeful expression crossed his features, "okay, Ford."

He smiled, "we're still on for tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah," he smiled back.

———

Friday was here! Ford almost had pep as he got ready for the day, excited to spend some time with Louis tonight. But first, he had some classes. 

After a couple of classes Ford couldn't focus on, he made it to abnormal psychology in the afternoon. Sure enough, upon looking around the room, he spotted Louis, with a newly stitched split lip, sitting in the back corner away from everyone else. 

Stanford smiled as he made his way over, "you mind if I sit here?"

He grinned upon seeing Ford, "be my guest."

Ford began to set his notebook out, readying for class. 

Soon, the doors burst open, Professor Jackson coming in. He set some papers on his desk, writing a few words on the chalkboard, the topic for today. He turned, to the students, opening his mouth to quiet the class. He stopped dead in his tracks when he looked up at Louis Parrish to find Stanford Pines cheerily chatting with him. Turning on a heel, the professor erased his planned lesson, cooking up another. The class quieted when the professor cleared his throat. 

"Today, class, I'd like to talk about a sickness," he leaned against the desk, speaking slowly, seeming to plan each word as he said it. "A sickness that is very dangerous, and should be avoided at all costs, lest you succumb to it as well. I'm sure many of you are aware that we have someone among us who suffers from this affliction. I'm, of course, talking about homosexuality."

The entire room turned at once, looking to Louis. To his credit, Louis didn't waver at all. His hand tightly gripping the pen he'd been fidgeting with until now. 

"Right, Mr. Parrish?" The professor's eyes locked onto the tall guy in the back. 

Ford looked confused between his friend and the professor. 

"I see you've become close to Mr. Pines, there," the professor stated. 

Louis cleared his throat, raspy voice calm and even, "if you would like to rekindle old fires, _James_ , it would be more professional for us to speak in private."

The professor hummed, "because you had professionalism in mind when you 'spoke in private' with my nephew?"

His pen snapped in half, he didn't flinch, "I don't see how that—“

"I believe _all_ of your classmates should be aware of your... Affliction," his eyes moving between Stanford and Louis. 

The ink ran down Louis's hand, the plastic pen barrel squeezed so tightly it was cutting him, "my 'affliction' isn't the same as your spot on a certain list of offenders, James. I'm not required to go door to door like you."

The professor tensed at that, "you're a faggot," he yelled, defensively. 

Louis opened his mouth to say something but caught the horrified look on Ford's face. He looked at Louis like he'd been _betrayed_. 

Louis shook his head, throwing his shit into his messenger bag hastily. As he tossed it over his head, he schooled the deep hurt from his face to look at Ford, "told you," he said simply before heading for the door. He stopped by the professor on his way out, opening his mouth before snapping it shut, pushing through the door he muttered to himself about being the bigger person. 

Ford's mind raced. Was that true? Louis was sure acting like it was. What if it is? He'd told Louis he wouldn't believe anything he didn't hear directly from him but... The more Ford thought about it: the head librarian's reaction to seeing the two of them with elbows hooked, mentioning his 'lifestyle'. Why people were so malicious toward Louis and not the six-fingered guy, why he acted the way he did yesterday. 

The man had been married, he was a father! No, Ford reminded himself, he'd been divorced, "I didn't want a wife," he'd said. 

Had he known a queer this whole time? Someone so close, and he had been completely unaware? Ford was smart, wouldn’t he have caught on? Ford thought gays were supposed to be a certain way— gay men acting like women. Talk of ‘fairy boys’ had been heard. Louis didn’t act that way, Ford thought. Louis acted in a very normal, in fact, intelligent way. He was quite friendly, often showed kindness to many around him. He was helpful and talented, carried the entire BMU library on his back at no particular expectation, without even further pay. 

Ford remembered watching Stonewall being talked about on the news, how disgusted his father was at the idea of homosexuals. 

'If Louis really was... _that way_ , am _I_ disgusted?' Ford asked himself.

"That's why you're so comfortable with me," Louis had said to himself. Ford now understood Louis was realizing 'you're not put off by me because you don't know you want to be'. But did he want to be? 

He felt like he should be, out of principal, but Louis wasn’t... scary, or malicious. 

Louis was one of the coolest and nicest people Ford had ever met, he was his only friend in this hellhole, and Ford was so happy to be around Louis. Ford found himself torn, between what he’d been told was wrong, and what he’d come to understand about someone, someone he’d come to like. Was he going to throw all that away because he might be... 'that way'?

Not without further investigation, he wasn't. 

It had been about fifteen seconds since Louis had left when Ford got up and gathered his things. He ignored the way the class stared at him as he ran out to follow his friend. He jogged to catch up with Louis's long strides. He glanced at Ford but didn't say anything to him. Stanford followed as Louis moved down the hall, out of the building, past the library, and into one of the dorm buildings. Walking into one, he left the door ajar, a silent invitation for Ford to follow.

Inside, Ford noticed a large number of books scattered on one side of the room, the other side almost bare. Louis leaned against the counter at the kitchenette, his head down. His hand was still dripping in ink, mixing with blood. Ford decided to lean next to him, not too close. He turned his head to face Louis, so he could read his lips, but he wouldn't look at him, "is it true?"

Louis swallowed, only watching through a side-eye. He hesitated, then sighed, "yeah," he rasped quietly. 

"Oh," was all Ford could manage at first. Silence fell over the room. Why was he so... normal, then? He was just like Ford, he was just like any decent guy their age— which to a ‘freak’ was few and far between. 

"Look, I'm sorry,” Louis sighed. “You probably think I'm some kinda... monster or something."

"If I thought you were a monster, would I have come after you?" Ford said before he could think. 

A look of hope crossed Louis's features, but he pushed them off, "some do. Maybe you wanted to tell me you never wanted to see me again— you're a nice guy, I'm sure you'd be polite about hating me."

That's happened to him before, Ford realized. Friends that he thought had his back abandoning him at the idea that he's 'like that'. People that would go on to miss out on the enigma that was Louis Parrish, just because of a small fact. Was it small though? Was it something he should be wary of? He was quiet for a moment, "why would the professor just... humiliate you like that?"

"Well, he already hates me because I slept with his nephew," he shrugged. "You're a smart kid, Ford, he knows that. He believes that if anyone gets mixed up with me that they'll 'catch the gay'— like it's a cold or something," he wiggled his fingers to emphasize what a ridiculous fucking notion that was. Ford couldn't help but giggle, (even though he had understood that was the way the queers worked as well, but Louis found it ridiculous, and he was smart, maybe the others were wrong again? Ford didn’t know if he completely believed that, but would perhaps ask another time.) causing his friend to watch him with a small smile. Silence fell again. "So, um," he scratched his head, "are we okay?"

"Yeah, Louis. We're okay," Ford smiled. "Just wash your hands before touching me, I don't wanna catch the gay," he giggled, elbowing Louis. 

Louis laughed. He was quiet for a beat, "I'm sorry I didn't just tell you, I just... was hoping..." He looked down at Ford, eyes sweeping his face. He seemed to realize something, but quickly hid it from his expression and shook his head. "I'm just glad you don't hate me."

Ford smiled up at him. He cleared his throat, "Louis?"

"Yeah?"

"You should really clean this," Ford grabbed his wrist, bringing it up for Louis to see his still bleeding hand. 

Louis laughed, turning to the sink, and washing up the hand. Once he was finished, he patted the hand dry, still bleeding a little. 

"Do you have band-aids?" Ford asked. 

Louis looked at him for a second, then told him where to find them. After a quick trip to the medicine cabinet, Ford came back with three band-aids, grabbing Louis's hand. He placed the bandages efficiently over the small cuts on his palm. From what Ford had seen, Louis didn't usually wrap wounds like this, or much at all. The new stitches in his lip were the most attention Ford had ever seen put into one of his wounds. Even so, his friend let him bandage his wound anyway. When he was finished, he looked up to find Louis much closer than he'd realized. They were only inches apart, Louis looking down at him with a neutral expression, but something else behind his eyes. Ford cleared his throat and stepped away to throw away the band-aid wrappers. 

Louis looked at his watch, "I should get to the library." He had a small smile as he looked back to Ford, "thanks for uh," he waved his bandaged hand a little. 

"Yeah," Ford smiled back. Being alone with him again, even with this new knowledge, he knew Louis was the same charming and enchanting man as he had been this whole time. "So um... we're still... later?"

Louis gave a small chuckle, "sure, man."

———

The next few hours seemed to drag as Ford struggled to focus on his papers. He kept running over the events from earlier in his mind. He figured maybe he should keep an eye on Louis, maybe he shouldn’t be so comfortable with him. But then Louis himself would walk by, give a quick smile to his friend before going off to do more work, and Ford remembered what Louis was really like. He wasn’t a bad guy, right? This... ‘affliction’ as Professor Jackson had called it, was supposed to be unnatural and dangerous. In the past, the idea of men liking other men had put Ford off, it was supposed to from what he’d heard. Maybe there was something wrong with _him_ for not thinking Louis was _that_ odd for it. But Louis had been a good friend to him, he was a good man that loved his family, loved his son. 

Ford went in circles like this for hours.

Finally, when Louis came over, telling him that he could wait outside while they woke June up and got her to leave, Ford gathered his things and trotted outside. 

He stood outside of the library, off to the side, but where Louis could easily see him. A couple of minutes pass when a large hand clamps over his shoulder from behind, "waitin' for your _boyfriend_ , Pines?" A tall jock asked from behind him, before pulling him away from the library. Ford began to call out, but a hand covered his mouth. After pulling him around the building, he pushed Ford against the brick wall. "Heard about your little stunt in Jackson's class today. Following fairy boy out the that— you guys are so cute together," the jock laughed evilly. He threw a punch into Ford's stomach, making him double over. Groaning he straightened up, only to see a fist flying toward his face— but before it could make contact, a long, thin hand gripped the upper arm connected to the fist, yanking it off course. Even in the low light of late evening, Ford could see the absolute murderous rage in Louis's eyes. He roughly pushed the jock face-first against the brick wall next to Ford. 

"Ford, go," Louis ordered, "I'll meet you there."

Ford's eyes flitted between Louis and the jock but decided it was best to listen, and head to the diner. He nodded as he began the walk up there. His mind raced, was this gonna become a regular thing? Was he gonna get beat up the way Louis does? Did people really think he was gay now? Gay and dating Louis? 

Part of him remembered the way he'd woken up with his face stuffed Louis's jacket, Louis being the first thing he'd smelled upon waking, how happy it made him feel. 

Part of him thought maybe if Louis was a girl— but he wouldn't be the same if he were a girl. Louis probably wouldn't do the things Ford found so endearing if he were a girl. He probably wouldn't be able to lend him his jacket when he was cold. He probably wouldn't have done what he'd just done to that jock. He probably wouldn't be almost a head taller than him. He probably wouldn't have strong hands to grip his shoulder sometimes as he said goodnight. He probably wouldn't have such a deep raspy voice, smell like aftershave, or seem so charismatic to Ford. The fact was, Ford wouldn't be nearly as enamored with him if he _were_ a girl. And if Ford were a girl— well, that just wouldn't work either. Even this small corner of his mind going through this reasoning wasn't willing to take the last step, think about the last option. Frankly, he wasn't ready to consider anything else or even continue thinking about it. 

Finally, Ford reached the diner, he sat down at the same booth as they had the last time. He ordered a coffee and waited. It didn't take long for Louis to come through the door. He had a new bruise on his jaw but seemed otherwise fine. He sat with Ford, looking over him worriedly, "he didn't get you too bad, did he?"

"No," Ford said honestly. "I'm okay. Are you?"

"I'm fine," he told him. After a beat, he sighed, "I'm so sorry you got hurt because of me."

"Louis, I chose to follow you earlier— everyone knows we're hanging out..."

"But it's not like..." He searched for words, "you're not— you shouldn't have to be hurt just because we're friends."

Ford didn't really know what to say, so he redirected the conversation a little, "thanks for jumping in back there. He caught me off guard so I couldn't do much."

"Anytime, man. I'm just glad I got there in time," he looked guilty.

The conversation after that was a little lighter. Ford began telling Louis about his time in boxing, leaving out the bits about you-know-who. After that, they devolved into talking about movies and books. 

At the end of the night, the two walked back to campus shoulder to shoulder. Ford couldn't help a happy grin any less than it seemed Louis could. Before they knew it, they were standing outside of Ford's building. 

"Same time next week?" Louis offered. 

"Yeah!" Ford responded excitedly, then cleared his throat, "I mean, yeah. Sounds good." After a beat, he groaned, "I just hope Barf is asleep, I don't want to deal with him."

"Well," Louis said slowly, "if it gets too bad, you know where my dorm is," he nodded in the direction of his building. 

"What about your roommate?"

"Oh, uh," he scratched his head, "I don't have one. No one will really room with me since... you know."

"Oh," Ford said, awkwardly. "Sorry."

He shrugged, "it keeps me able to do things like give you an out from your shitty roommate."

Ford smiled a little, "thanks."

Louis chuckled, putting a firm hand on Ford's shoulder the way he likes. "I gotta get going. I'll see you Monday?"

"Sure," Ford beamed. 

He squeezed Ford's shoulder, before heading off. 


	4. Sanctuary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a fight with his roommate, Ford takes refuge at Louis's. 
> 
> Kinda slumber party-ish.

Ford had had a particularly terrible fight with Barf. Campus staff were starting to get wind of Barf's dealing and were starting to put out warnings that if dealing was suspected they would search the dorms. Apparently, staff didn't care if you had drugs or went to class drunk or high, but had to draw the line somewhere. Stanford had started to get legitimately worried about being expelled. There was no way his father would ever believe it wasn't his fault. He would hear him now: "you're just like your no-good brother."

After storming out, Ford realized it's colder than his father's heart outside. 

It had been a couple of weeks since Louis had offered his dorm when Ford needed escape. Seeing as they kept getting closer and closer, Ford decided it would be best to take him up on that. 

Walking through the dark campus, he made his way to Louis's building. He found his door pretty quickly, but as he rose a hand to knock, he heard something from inside. 

Someone giggled, then gasped, "Louis, you know that drives me crazy!"

Louis hummed, "why do you think I do it so much?"

A squeal came from the other guy, "Louis, I swear—" another squeal. 

Ford flushed but knocked anyway. He felt bad for listening, but... it intrigued him. 

"Who's that?" The other guy asked. 

"I don't know, I'll check it out, don't move," he had a mischievous tone as he drew another one of those squeals out of the other man. 

Ford didn't think he could get any redder— until Louis opened the door. His white button-up was untucked and more than halfway undone, showing his lean chest, fresh hickeys spotted his skin. His glasses askew over half-lidded eyes, a smile dusting his reddened lips. He looked— oh fuck, he looked _good_. 

Ford realized he was staring, and focused his eyes back upon Louis's. 

"Ford?" Louis finally said. 

"I um... I had a bad fight with Barf and I... but if you're busy—"

"No no, it's okay. Um," he ducked his head behind the door, probably looking at whoever he'd been making squeal like that. "Can you give me one second?" He turned back to Ford. 

"It's okay, Lou," the second voice came again. Suddenly, the other guy, curly hair disheveled, shirt missing, glasses also askew, came into view. He wrapped his arms around Louis, tucking his shorter frame against Louis's tall one. "You can let him in." 

Louis looked at him for a second, then back to Ford, then sighed. He stepped aside, and let Ford in. He awkwardly filed in, standing off to the side. 

"I don't mind," the other guy gave a mischievous smirk, trying to pull Louis back down for a kiss, but Louis stopped him. 

"Evan, I think we should continue this later," he said. 

Ford inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. 

"Oh," Evan said in a teasing voice, glancing at Ford before winking, "I get it." 

Louis swallowed, eyes silently pleading for him not to expand in that. 

But he did, "you have a type," he ruffled his own curly hair, fixing his glasses...

Oh, shit. 

Louis rolled his eyes, "okay, Ev, for real." 

"Okay, okay," he chuckled. He picked up a polo shirt from the floor, "another time, then?"

"Another time," Louis smiled back. 

Evan stood on his tip-toes, giving Louis a long, but closed-mouthed kiss. 

Ford couldn't help but stare. It was the first time he'd seen anything... gay in real life— or at all really. He felt like he should be unnerved, seeing two men like that, but felt something far more complicated instead. A yearning? Jealousy? Maybe it was because he’d never had something like that. Yeah, Ford decided, that’s it, no need for further thought. It was also the first time he'd seen Louis like this, it was so... 'interesting', was the word Ford decided on— and _needed no further thought_ , he reminded himself.

Evan seemed to fix himself, trying not to look too much like he'd been fooling around with the tall librarian after dark. He gave Ford another once over, with a mischievous smile, before leaving. 

Ford was the first to speak, "sorry to interrupt." He really did feel kinda bad. Louis works all the time, his only time off goes to his family or hanging out with Ford. He probably didn't have a lot of time to do that kind of thing. It was late enough that the activity must've been cutting into his much-needed sleep time. 

Louis cleared his throat, buttoning his shirt, "it's alright. I told you my door was always open and I meant it." Moving to his nightstand, he cleared a couple of things Ford hadn't seen before: a bottle of lube and a box of condoms. Ford flushed all over again, it just made it all the more real. Next, Louis tore a blank piece of paper out of a stray notebook, then placed it carefully over the contents of the trash can. Doing this effectively hid all the blatant evidence of the things he was getting up to from Ford's gaze. He was very thankful for this. "Please excuse Evan's... comments." 

"It's okay." Ford rubbed the back of his neck, "I didn't know you had a... boyfriend." 

Louis gave a soft chuckle, "I don't. Evan and I just," he searched for the right words, "get together sometimes." 

"Oh," was all Ford could manage. 

Louis sat on the floor, gesturing for Ford to do the same. He did, thankful that he wouldn't have to sit on the bed. "So, what happened?"

It took him a second to regroup his thoughts, but he explained the situation. Louis nodded along as Ford told him of the staff starting to figure out about Barf's dealing, the fear of getting expelled, Barf just being a general asshole. "I just don't want to go back there," Ford said finally. 

Louis placed a hand on Ford's shoulder, "man, that kid sucks so much." 

Ford chuffed, "tell me about it." 

Louis thought for a second, "well, if you'd like you can stay here tonight," he offered, "if you're not comfortable I understa—"

"No," Ford blurted. "I-I would like to stay." 

Louis chuckled, "sure." He opened the window a crack and lit a cigarette, "you hungry?" 

"Yeah," Ford smiled. 

"Pasta?" he made his way over to the kitchenette. 

"Sure."

As he moved around the kitchen, Ford picked up a stray book from the floor. _Around the World in 80 Days_ , by Jules Verne. He opened his mouth to say something but saw Louis facing the stove, back to him. He made a note to wait until he'd be able to read his lips again. For now, he quietly looked over the books ordered on the floor, the small notebooks next to each. Looking over the notes, he could hardly make them out, between the code and the scribbled handwriting it was near impossible. 

Ford was trying to figure out what kind of code it was when Louis sat next to him. He handed Ford a plate with a pile of noodles covered in a creamy Alfredo sauce, an identical one for himself. 

Ford scooped a forkful of the noodles and shoved it in his mouth. "Ohmigosh," he said, covering his mouth. "Louis, this is amazing!"

He smiled, "by brother-in-law made the sauce, he insisted I take some."

Ford was only half listening as he shoveled the food in his mouth, "Louis, that man is a wizard."

"I know, he's the best," he was shoveling food in too. 

After quickly finishing his food, Ford gestured to all the books, "your obsession goes a lot deeper than I thought. Are these all Verne?"

Louis hummed, "yeah, it's a long story."

He set the plate aside, intrigued, "I've got time."

Louis sighed, setting his plate aside as well. "My dad was a weird guy," he started. "He was a ' _Vernian_ '. He believed that the works of the science fiction writer weren't fiction at all. He and my brother kept trying to 'solve the mystery' or whatever," he lit another cigarette. 

Ford realized he'd hadn't heard anything about his dad or this brother before. 

Reaching forward, Louis grabbed _Journey to the Center of the Earth_ , and a small notebook next to it. "I loved the books, I read them first when I was young, and liked them more with every read. I wasn't really a part of their studies when I was younger, and couldn't really join in. By the time I was old enough to be of help, it was already Dad and Richard's thing.

"The last year, they'd hardly come out of the attic. I was the one that had to bring them dinner each night. The last week, they were too busy to eat more than a few bites. 

"I remember the day I woke up to find my mother and sister crying in the attic. They just... left. There was a note, saying 'we've done it! We're going to make the discovery of a lifetime!'"

"Where did they go?"

"I don't know," Louis shrugged, "but they never came back." He paused, paging through the little notebook, "I think they actually thought they found what they were looking for— I think they really went looking for... whatever it was. I think they went God-knows-where— and my dad dragged my twenty-year-old brother to an early death because Jules Verne was a great writer, and did so much research, put so much time into making his works believable, that people now _still_ want to believe he was writing non-fiction." He realized he was rambling, and sighed.

"My brother," he said at last, "in the heat of excitement of whatever discovery he and my dad made, left his notes behind," he held up the small notebook. "They're encoded, and a complete mess, really— but every couple years I re-read the books, pour through them with the notes, just to get an idea of what the _hell_ they were thinking."

Ford nodded. After a beat he spoke, "you don't think they found what they were looking for?"

"Well, you're smart, Ford, you've read Verne's works. Tell me: do _you_ think they found what they were looking for?" 

He thought for a moment, "you don't even know which book they were focused on?" He picked up _From the Earth to the Moon._

"Not really, Richard has notes on each," Louis shrugged. "I think they were fishing for whatever they could find. They looked at each book until they cracked one."

Ford hummed, "I don't think it's impossible," he said, finally. "Did I ever tell you I saw the Jersey Devil?"

Louis laughed, letting the mood lighten, "no, but now I need to hear that story."

The two delved into stories like that, Ford's run-in with the Jersey Devil, Louis's run-in with Bigfoot (they played poker with acorns), other crazy anomalies. 

After a while, Ford was getting tired, Louis was telling the story of his sister getting a make-over by fairies during a camping trip when Ford yawned and laid his head against Louis's shoulder. 

"They even gave her big fake eyelashes, she said they came from a unicorn," Louis laughed, unconsciously wrapping an arm around the shorter man. 

Ford giggled, feeling happy and warm being so close to the tall librarian. He tiredly snuggled up to Louis's side yawning again. 

"Sleepy?" Louis asked, softly. 

Ford nodded, curling up a little, "you're warm."

Louis chuckled and didn't make any move to get up or get away from Ford. After a moment, he said, "Ford, we should probably—"

His arms moved to curl around Louis's waist, stopping him in the middle of whatever he was saying. He looked up at Louis, chin resting on his shoulder still, "is... this okay?"

Louis looked down at him for a moment, turning a little pink. His eyes flicked from Ford's to his lips, Ford figured in case he started talking again. "I um," he shook his head a little, "it's okay, Ford."

"Good," he hummed, tucking himself back against his shoulder. 

"You should get to sleep though," Louis said slowly. 

"So should you."

"Well, do you plan to sleep here on the floor with me?" He moved his hand to gently play with Ford's hair. 

He giggled at the sensation, "well, you _are_ warm."

"Yes, but if you sleep like this you'll be sore in the morning," Louis gently traced Ford's spine, "just look at this terrible posture." He didn't let the tracing go lower than his waist, which Ford was grateful for. 

Ford shivered lightly at the touch, it felt almost electric. 

Ford's sleep-deprived brain went back to that morning, waking up on Louis's jacket. To be against the man himself now, so warm, smelling like aftershave even more than usual, gentle hand going back into his hair, the jacket paled in comparison to this. 

His mind also wandered back to watching Louis kiss that Evan boy. He wondered what it would've been like to be Evan at that moment. He turned his head to look back up at Louis. Eyes wandering to his lips, realizing they looked soft. 

"What're you thinking down there?" Louis raised an eyebrow. 

Ford flushed a little, realizing he was thinking about such things with Louis. With warm, tall, raspy-voiced Louis, who looked like he had soft lips, and definitely had strong hands— "nothing," Ford chirped. 

"Mhm," he said, "you're good at a lot of things, Ford, but lying isn't one of them."

Ford blushed darker, hiding his face against his thin shoulder once again. 

"Keep your secrets," he playfully squeezed Ford's shoulder, making him giggle. Clearing his throat, he tried to get Ford to move a little, "c'mon, man. As much as I'm enjoying our little cuddle fest, I'm not letting you sleep on the floor."

Ford sighed, and sat back up, "you're right." Suddenly a different idea hit him like a brick, "do you have something I can sleep in?" He gestured to his sweater vest and khakis.

"Oh, of course," the taller smiled, getting up and going to a dresser. He pulled out some flannel pajama pants and a white t-shirt.

Ford fought the grin from his face as he went into the bathroom. He was right, the clothes did smell like him. Again, he realized it was weird to wear your friend's clothes because they smell like him. It made him too happy to really worry too much about it. He could feel weird about it tomorrow. 

Once changed, the pants too long on him even yanked up nearly to his belly button, the shirt actually fitting him quite flatteringly, he strode out of the bathroom. Turns out while he was in there, Louis had changed into his own flannel pants and removed his shirt. He fiddled with a new shirt as he turned to face Ford. 

The sight of the tall librarian shirtless stopped his friend in his tracks for two reasons. The first reason being the massive amount of scars and scabs on his stomach and chest, paired with the hickeys from earlier. The other being something he didn't really want to dwell on, but it was hard to keep that lean chest from his mind. 

Louis pulled a red t-shirt over his head, without commenting on the other man's stare. "Everything fit?" He signed as he asked, eyes rolling over Ford's body in his clothes. 

"Yeah, thanks," Ford signed back, assuming Louis had taken his hearing-aid out in preparation for bed. 

"Good," he nodded, sitting on his own bed, still mussed from earlier events. 

Ford sat on the other bed, he thought for a bit. "I wish you were my roommate, Louis," he signed. 

He stared for a moment, "really?"

"Yeah, you're smart and funny, you have good food, you don't deal drugs, and you wear pants."

Louis laughed, "well when you're here," he joked. 

Ford chuckled, "people are stupid for not wanting to room with you, they're lucky."

Louis hummed, "well, a lot of guys just aren't comfortable around me, especially alone."

"Their loss," Ford signed. "If I could, I'd move in yesterday."

"Well, if you really mean it, you could request a room change. You're a good kid, they might actually give it to you."

"You can do that?" He gasped. 

"Yeah, it might make people talk, though," Louis scratched his head. 

He shrugged, "it's better than worrying about getting expelled." 

Louis paused, "I don't want them to start hurting you, though."

"I was in boxing, remember?" Ford smirked. 

"I know, but—"

"I'm not worried about it, Louis."

He sighed, "okay, at least this way I can make sure you get enough sleep."

Ford yawned, "speaking of," he mumbled. He adjusted to sit further back on the bed, back against the wall. He thought for a moment then tried to carefully form a question, "are you afraid of people thinking something's going on with us?" 

Louis raised his eyebrows, "only because I worry about you getting beat up."

"But other than that? Like do you worry about people thinking you'd go out with me? Or maybe what potential boyfriends would think?"

Louis furrowed his eyebrows, but answered anyway, "I'm not worried about that. People can think whatever they want about me. Even is really the only guy I've got, and he's not my boyfriend."

Ford nodded, finding himself with another question but couldn't find the courage to ask. 

"What about you? Do you think hanging out with me hurts your chances to get girls?"

Ford laughed, hard, "girls don't look twice at me the way it is."

"Their loss," Louis mumbled, more to himself than anything. He worded the next question carefully, "do you want them to?"

Ford paused. Did he? "Not right now, at least," seemed like a fine enough answer. 

"Well," Louis smiled, "I do make a good wingman if you'd ever like my services."

Ford chuckled. 

"We can get the paperwork tomorrow," Louis yawned. 

"Sounds good, Louis."

"In the meantime, let's get some sleep, huh?"

Ford nodded.

The tall librarian smiled and turned out the light. Properly gritting into bed, he called softly, "goodnight, Ford."

"Goodnight Louis," he knew he couldn't hear him, but it was nice nonetheless. Ford also slid under the blankets, smiling at the scent of Louis's clothes as he turned to his stomach, and fell into sleep. 


	5. Roomies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford moves in! He has a lot on his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this one is a little aimless, I promise it's worth it for the next chapter!
> 
> Tw for blood

The look the room coordinator woman gave the two as they handed in their room transfer request was... unimpressed. She'd heard the things whispered in the halls about the gay librarian assistant. Alternatively, she'd heard about the wonder-child that was exceptionally brilliant and was stuck at this dump. But, who was Phylis to judge what the kids get up to in their dorms? If a crazy smart kid wants to waste his time hanging out with that queer, let 'em. Phylis don't give a damn. She, much like June, the head librarian, was counting the days until retirement. She doesn't care if these weirdos want to room together. 

Only a few days later, the dean came by to tell Ford the change had gone through. Despite the odd looks the dean gave Ford at the request to room with Louis, Ford couldn't help but nearly vibrate with excitement. He quickly headed over to Louis's, and Louis immediately followed to help move him in. 

Barf was there, of course, and his girlfriend, Shan, stared distastefully at the two as they packed Ford's things. 

"You know," Shan started, "if you move in with him you're never gonna get any pretty girls."

"There aren't any pretty girls at Backupsmore," Louis scoffed. 

"Aren't you gay?" Shan asked, squinting at him.

"I  _ have _ eyes, Shannon," eyes in question rolling with annoyance. 

Ford found himself laughing heartily at that, deciding that this was definitely the right choice.

It wouldn't take long to get settled into the new living space, Louis being quite the agreeable roommate. 

He kept the space fairly clean, kept up on his laundry, and he always wore pants! Although, sometimes he would come out from a shower in only a towel, sometimes with only pants on. These were times when Ford would hunch harder into whatever he could to distract himself— usually a book. God forbid Louis try to ask him a question while like that. 

Not to mention, every weekend after returning from his sister's he would bring some kind of food with him made by his brother-in-law, Nate. From soup and chili to pies and cookies. Once, upon Louis expressing that his new roommate was Jewish, Nate had insisted on making a separate version of his baked potato soup without bacon just for Ford. Who, while infinitely grateful at the thought, told Louis he wasn't really kosher these days. 

To both Ford and Louis's gratitude, Evan, the sort of 'friend with benefits' to Louis, now had a single room. Apparently, after Stanford had moved out of Barf's room, Evan's roommate had taken his spot. This meant that they could still see each other whenever they liked, and Ford wouldn't have to find somewhere to go for the night. He still came around the dorm, though— he was, after all, Louis's friend before whatever else. Ford had gotten to know him a little, finding him a lot more the picture of homosexuality than Louis, but any gay-ness was directed at Louis, which made Ford feel things he couldn't and didn't want to understand. He and Evan were mutually lukewarm on each other. Thankfully, Louis made no effort to make them friends on their own, happy enough that they tolerated each other.

Sometimes, Louis would grab some ' _ supplies _ ' from his nightstand drawer, then head off to Evan's. When Louis would come back looking far more relaxed, but there was something else on his face. 

Ford tried (and often failed) not to wonder about the specifics of the things his friend was getting up to over there. Ford could understand mechanically how that would work, but what about Louis? What kinds of things did he enjoy? What little quirks did he have, tricks maybe? What drove him crazy? Would he make nice noises? 

These were thoughts Ford tried to ignore. 

The longer Ford was his roommate, Louis seemed to do these kinds of outings less and less. He would still go over there sometimes, but he didn't bring supplies, and wouldn't come back with the same glow he used to. It seemed like he went to just talk. Ford had to wonder what about, and why Louis couldn't talk about it with him instead. He never asked. 

———

One night a couple of weeks after moving in, Louis had let Ford know he was going to the bar, and not to wait up. He hadn't planned to wait up, he really didn't, but he found he couldn't really stay asleep. It was 3:17 am, Ford laying in bed re-reading  _ Frankenstein _ when the door swung open, and it might've been Frankenstein's monster himself that hobbled in. Louis swayed, hand pressed to his belly as his eyes landed on Ford. He froze like a dog caught stealing your slipper. In the dark, Ford couldn't see his face, but he was instantly crazy worried. "Louis?"

He coughed a little, "hey. I uh, thought you'd be asleep," his speech was actually not slurred. He wasn't as drunk as the swaying would suggest. 

"I couldn't," was all Ford could say, reaching for the light. 

"Don't," Louis stopped him. "I... let me get into the bathroom first," he tried to sway over to the door, having trouble. 

Ford got out of bed, "let me help you," he said, aware that Louis might not have heard him. He moved to gently take his arm, but both flinched away from each other. His arm was wet and sticky. 

"Ford," Louis said, voice trembling a little, "go back to bed."

He didn't listen, going in front of Louis to turn on the bathroom light. Louis flinched at the sudden brightness. 

Louis was bleeding, to say the least. There was a cut on his forehead, and his hearing aid was missing. There was a long gash on the side of his head, there were hand-shaped bruises on his neck, and he had popped a blood vessel, his right eye completely red against the green iris. There was a deep cut on his right upper arm, right above where Ford had tried to grab him. His arms were pressed tightly over his belly, his entire white shirt now dark red, suggesting that he had more cuts on his abdomen. He was wobbly, probably from loss of blood, as nothing looked wrong with his legs or ankles, other than another large gash in his left thigh. 

Louis wouldn't look at Ford. 

"What the hell happened to you?" Ford screeched. 

Louis glanced at him but shook his head. 

He sighed, reaching forward to grab Louis's outermost hand. He leads him into the bathroom, having him sit on the lip of the bathtub. He figured if he needed to pay attention to sitting up he'd be more likely to fight to stay awake. Coaxing his arms away from his middle, he found there were a few large and alarmingly deep cuts across. Thankfully, they didn't seem to get any organs, but it looked dangerously close. He looked up at Louis, who still wouldn't look at him. 

"Is anything broken?" He asked, signing as well.

Louis shook his head no. 

Well, that's  _ something _ , Ford figured. He started to unbutton Louis's shirt, in any other circumstance this would've made him blush widely, but now he was focused on making sure Louis was taken care of. Louis let him slide the shirt off, wincing a little as he pulled it off his shoulders. There were bruises, dark bruises, all over his ribcage. He made a motion for Louis to stay where he was, as Ford grabbed some stuff from the medicine cabinet and a few things from the kitchen. 

When he returned, he gave Louis a glass of water. While washing his hands, he watched Louis from the corner of his eye, which he seemed to be doing back. 

Ford came back to him, cleaning the wound on his forehead and the side of his head. They're head wounds, so they bleed more, but they didn't need stitches. He patched them up with a few butterfly bandages. He looked at Louis's face, still refusing to look at him. 

"Louis," he spoke quietly as he signed. "Did you hit your head?"

He shrugged, not an uncaring one, but an honest, 'I don't know'.

He looked at the bruises on his neck, he gently touched them, and Louis made a small noise. 

Ford cleaned Louis's shoulder and thigh, running a needle and thread through a small amount of whiskey. Louis kept it mostly for cooking, but it was here anyway. Louis reached for the bottle, only getting a small sip before Ford carefully pulled it away, "you're not done bleeding, I don't want you bleeding out."

Louis glared a little but backed off. 

Ford showed Louis the needle, and touched his shoulder, letting him know what he was about to do. 

Louis nodded, resting his left hand on his thigh, avoiding the gash there carefully. He began to squeeze to bear the pain as Ford started stitching the other arm. Ford noticed this, worrying him about his thigh. Silently, Ford moved his hand from his thigh to Ford's own thigh. Louis looked down at him but kept the steady squeeze as he worked through those stitches. 

Next, he moved to work on the thigh. The pants he was wearing were already cut, so Ford just signed a quick "sorry," before tearing them completely over the leg. Louis's hand stayed clenched on Ford's thigh as he stitched up the leg. 

He had Louis stand, with pained groans, as he took a wet towel to the bloodbath that was his stomach. Then he moved the makeshift hospital to Louis's bed, Ford quickly pushing the blankets off, so he could lie down while he got his stomach stitched.

Louis began softly talking through the stitches, now gently squeezing Ford's shoulder instead of his thigh. "You... really didn't have to..." He rasped. Ford glanced at him, before continuing. "I didn't mean for you— ow, fuck— to see this." He was quiet for a beat, "I'm sorry, Ford."

Pausing, he met Louis's gaze, he genuinely looked guilty. He resumed his work finishing soon. He wrapped over his stomach as best he could, but it was kind of hard for Louis to move much while laying down. He gathered the mess of Louis's blankets, before laying them over him. Making a quick decision, he got into the small bed next to Louis, explaining that he'd need to make sure he didn't roll around and rip his stitches. Ford knew that didn't mean he'd need to sleep next to him. Louis knew this too but didn't protest as the shorter man put his head on his chest, curling into his side. Louis sighed and wrapped an arm around him. 

Ford would wake up to Louis holding him tightly, legs tangled, Louis's face pressed into his curly hair. He knew it should've felt weird, or uncomfortable, but it felt so nice. Louis seemed to think so too, sleepily grumbling "good morning," with a large grin on his face. They ended up spending a while like this, neither of them really wanting to move. 

All Louis would explain about what happened is that he was jumped. Saying he was choked unconscious and woke up having lost his expensive hearing aid. "I still have the one for my right ear," he explained. "But I have more hearing loss in that one so it's louder and doesn't work as well. I should be getting my ears looked at soon though, so hopefully, I'll be up for a new set," he told Ford. 

———

Midterms came and Louis was doing everything he could to help Ford through it, helping him study a bit, but mostly his help came in the form of making sure he ate and slept. It was an enormous help— and also an enormous distraction. 

Most of the day Louis was running around the library like a madman. Days consisted of trying to help everyone that needed it, keep everything organized, do paperwork, and try to run through his own studies in every second of spare time. 

Ford was happy to do most of his studies here in the dorm alone.

But when Louis got home, he'd make dinner, eat with Ford— insisting that breaks were healthier than cramming 24/7. He'd shower, sort out his clothes in a towel, refill Ford's coffee whenever he asked, and after a certain time insist on him going to bed. 

Ford knew all the care Louis gave even in his own down cut into his own study time. 

Ford would find himself unable to focus at times, thinking strange thoughts about Louis, how funny and handsome he was. How sometimes, when Evan would be over, he'd give Louis a rare kiss. Ford found it hard not to wonder what it would be like— for science,  _ obviously _ — to kiss Louis. That brilliant and enchanting man, warm personality, and warm body. Seriously, the guy was like a heater— a really handsome heater that had funny stories and that would hold you tight and would take care of you to make sure you ate and got enough water and sleep— fuck, he was so fucking great. 

Anytime Ford had trouble sleeping, he would think back to sleeping on his warm chest. His body so close to Louis's. The way Louis held him, lean arms putting just enough pressure over his back, one hand resting at the nape of his neck, his face buried in his hair. What would it be like to wake up like that with him, Louis softly kissing him awake? So many nights Ford would wish to climb in next to him again. 

He would find little excuses to touch him. Grabbing his hand to show him something, touching his shoulder whenever he could think of an excuse, hugging him goodbye when he left for the weekend.

Ford had never really had a crush before. Never dated anyone, never had his first kiss, let alone anything more. Maybe that was why he was thinking like this about his declared best friend. Maybe he just needed to go out with a pretty girl for a while, maybe even get laid. The fact was, no matter how many times he considered that the case, he didn't  _ want _ to. He didn't want to see anyone else that way and didn't. As much as he didn't want to think about it, Ford  _ liked _ Louis. What that means for him, he doesn't want to think about that either.

"Ford?" A raspy voice cut through his thoughts. "Hey man, you okay?" 

Ford shook his head a little, realizing he'd been staring again. "Uh, yeah. I'm okay," he slid his hand under his glasses to rub his eyes. 

"When was the last time you slept?" Louis asked, putting a concerned hand on his shoulder. 

Ford tried to wave him off, "nothing a little coffee can't remedy." 

Louis stood in between him and the kitchen, "no, sir. Coffee is not a cure-all, a great ice-breaker with a nerd at a library, but not a cure-all." 

Ford had to smile a little at the memory. 

"There it is," Louis elbowed him a little. "C'mon, what do I gotta do here? Read you a bedtime story? Tuck you in and kiss you goodnight?" 

At the mere thought, Ford flushed. 

"I'm kidding, of course," Louis clarified, taking Ford's embarrassment as discomfort. He started to coax the textbooks from his fingers, "c'mon, this stuff can't be more interesting than sleep." 

Ford shrugged, "doing well is more important than sleep." 

"What the hell does it matter how much studying you do if you're so tired you can't remember your name?"

Ford sighed, "why did you have to be a psychology major? You're always trying to shrink me."

"Well, if the world didn't insist my way of life was an illness I'd probably be a writer or a lawyer," Louis shrugged, "but  _ no.  _ Crush the boy's dreams." He wiggled his fingers, "make him cold and cynical." 

Ford stopped, "wait, what?" 

"Ford, it's late do we—"

The look on Stanford's face was enough to make him stop and expand. Damn him with those big curious blue eyes. 

"I went into psychology to research homosexuality and prove that I'm  _ not _ sick. I'm just a person," he tried to change the subject, "now c'mon, get you to bed."

"You based your whole future on that?" Ford asked. "You feel that strongly about it?" With the eyes. It wasn't a conscious thing for Ford, he didn't realize what it did to the taller man. 

"Well, yeah. I don't want future generations of young people to feel the way I did when I was young." 

"How did you feel when you were young?" 

Louis looked away and didn't say anything for a moment. Then, just one word: " _ wrong _ ," he said it with such pain and deep hate. 

It pained Ford to see him feel so terrible. Before he could think, he reached out and took one of his hands, "I-I don't think you're wrong." 

For a while, Louis just stared, surprised. The silence hung for a moment, before Louis gained a soft smile, "thanks, Ford." After a bit, he cleared his throat, "flattery aside, you still need sleep."

"Damn," he feigned upset, before chuckling. Louis helped him clear his space of books, having him lay down. 

"I don't wanna hear you talking in your sleep about astronomy or physics, okay?" Louis teased. 

Ford's eyes widened for a second, "do— do I talk in my sleep?"

Louis chuckled, "no, Ford, I was kidding." 

He breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t want to accidentally reveal the things he thought about his roommate through some kind of dream.

"But," Louis continued, "if you did I probably wouldn't know," he pointed to his hearing aid. Ford smiled a little. "Alright, enough stalling," he pulled the blankets up around Ford, "get some sleep."As he stood to walk away, Ford grabbed his wrist, Louis immediately looked back with concern. 

Ford bit his lip for a second, was he really going to do this? "Please, stay." He was apparently.

A guarded expression crossed Louis's features, something in his eyes calculating. After a moment, he gave a small smile, "okay, Ford." 

Ford smiled too, moving the covers so Louis would be able to scootch into the small bed. He did, gently pulling Ford onto his chest. The shorter let out a small hum of appreciation and hoped it would be too quiet for Louis to hear. 

Louis quietly announced he had to take out his hearing aid as if reading Ford's mind. 

He gave a thumbs-up, making the other chuckle a little. 

After a second, the two settled together. Ford curling into Louis's warm side, breathing in that smell of aftershave, books, and cigarettes. Louis's arms curled around him, softly rubbing his back for a little. Ford scooted up a little, his face landing a little more in the crook of his neck. At this, Louis gave a small hum. It had helped that this wasn't the first time they'd done this, and they'd gotten more comfortable together since the first time. One of Louis's hands went into his hair, softly playing with the soft curly mess. The other hand stayed firm around his waist as if to make sure Ford didn't float away. Ford gave a small content sigh and soon fell himself asleep, listening to the soft thrum of the other man's heartbeat.


	6. Like Louis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford goes with Louis and Evan to a party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: drinking, Ford's still only 18 and gets hammered.

It was a rare occurrence for Ford to return to the dorm and find Louis already there, at any time of day. Ford only really went out for class during the time Louis was working or  _ with _ Louis. For whatever reason, today he opened the door to find Evan and Louis sitting on his bed. 

"C'mon, Louis you have to go—“ Evan was whining when he noticed the new presence in the room. "Ford, tell Louis he  _ has _ to go to the party Thursday!"

Ford's face scrunched, "why?"

"Well, first of all, all he does is work, he needs to let loose, right?"

"I guess," Ford shrugged.

"And Thursday is Bryan Fowler's birthday, that's why the party is on a Thursday," he explained. "But it's also Louis's birthd—"

Louis clamped a hand over the blond's mouth and gave him the sternest look Ford had ever seen on his face. 

"Wait, Thursday is your birthday, Louis?" Ford asked. 

Louis sighed, "damn it, Evan," taking his hand away from him. 

"He's a weirdo and doesn't want anyone to know," Evan explained to Ford. 

"I'm allowed to hate things," Louis crossed his arms. 

"But your birthday?" Ford was confused.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Evan shook his head, "the point is you have to go out Thursday!"

"I don't want to."

"Fine, don't go because it's your birthday, go so you can be my wingman," Evan prompted. 

After a beat, Louis sighed, "fine."

Evan squealed happily, then turned to Ford, "what about you, square?"

"I'm not square," he crossed his arms. "I just don't like parties."

"Square," Evan coughed. "C'mon, I'm sure they'll be plenty of girls— or boys, you know."

Ford flushed. 

"Evan," Louis scolded. 

Evan shrugged, "What? I'm just trying to keep his options open," he defended. "Louis is such a great wingman, he's accidentally paired off so many boys that would've been a great fit for him. It's probably why he has such trouble finding love," he pinched Louis's cheek.

"Fuck off, Evan," he batted his hand away. 

"Well," Ford came to sit on the floor by the bed, "have you exactly been  _ looking _ for love?"

Louis covered his face, "how did you begging for me to go to a party turn into this?"

"Believe you me," Evan told Ford, "he's been looking," he winked. 

Ford hummed, ignoring the way his cheeks were heating up. 

"Come with us Thursday?" Evan offered, circling back. 

The tallest spoke up, "if you don't want to, don't let Ev pressure you."

Ford thought for a second, the only time he'd gone to a party was when Stan had dragged him— man, that's something he'd been  _ really _ avoiding thinking about: Stan. 

Ford realized he'd have to spend his future birthdays alone— that's something that could make a man resent his birthday. His attachment since birth to his codependent, selfish—

"Don't think too hard there, Einstein," Evan patted his head. 

Ford shook his head a little, he needed more distraction, "yeah, I'll go."

Evan squealed again, throwing his arms up happily.

———

Thursday, December 3, 1971, Ford burned the date into his brain. Today, Louis was 23, Ford had learned from Evan. The three had agreed to treat it as just another day. 

After Louis had locked up at the library, he came home and got ready with Ford. 

Ford had decided to wear a mustard yellow turtleneck, with dark grey slacks. 

He found Louis wearing a black button-down, sleeves rolled up over his elbows, tucked into rust-colored suede pants— of course, he looked amazing, Ford thought. 

Evan soon came by, he was wearing a light pink button-up and white slacks. "You look great, Louis," he announced, reaching up and adjusting his collar. 

He slapped his hands away, "yeah, yeah." Turning, Louis dug in his nightstand drawer. He pulled out four foil packets. He broke two off and handed them to Evan. "Use them," he said firmly. Evan rolled his eyes. 

He pointed to the other two still in Louis's hand, "so you plan on getting a little too?"

"No," he said simply before coming over to Ford and placing them in his hands. 

Behind them, Evan broke out in loud laughter, "you think Nancy boy over there is really gonna need  _ condoms _ ?"

Louis turned sharply, "hearing  _ you _ call someone 'Nancy boy' is rich," he hissed. 

Ford was bright red, "uh L-Louis, I-I really don't think this is necessary."

"Maybe not," he shrugged, "but just in case."

Ford nodded, shoving them in his pocket. Did Louis really think that's why he was coming along, to get laid? And Louis didn't grab any for himself? He was just going to play wingman and not expect to 'get any'?

"Are we going, boys?" Evan twirled his keys around his fingers. 

Ford grabbed a coat, seeing Louis also grabbed his red denim jacket. 

With that, they were off to... Wherever. After a short car ride in Evan's beater, they were parking on a packed street amongst a bunch of houses. The blond lead them to a house packed with BMU students. Luckily most of them were too busy drinking, dancing, and mingling to care about the freaks entering the scene. Ducking into the kitchen, they grabbed drinks. Evan diving for the 'mystery punch' while Louis grabbed a beer. 

Louis signed to Ford, probably not knowing how loud the music was (he'd kept his hearing aid in his pocket for emergencies, but wasn't wearing it), maybe he was just trying to save him of Evan's comments. "If you don't want to drink, don't." 

Ford shrugged, deciding maybe he could 'let loose' a little. He grabbed a cup of the punch— which he would find to have more alcohol than punch in it. 

From there, the group found a wall in the living room to lean against, as Evan scanned for boys.

———

After a while, Ford was starting to feel a little fuzzy. Suddenly, he realized Evan wasn't next to them anymore. Louis was so close. Wonderful Louis. Their arms nearly touched, they were so close. Ford remembered that this wasn't the closest they'd been. Thoughts were starting to swim, the memory of the couple times they'd slept in the same bed. He was just so interesting and enchanting—

"You doing alright down there?" Louis signed. 

Ford realized he'd been staring, he reddened a little, nodding. 

"What're you thinking?"

Ford shrugged. 

Louis seemed to let it go.

Ford made an effort to look around the room. People were scattered. Some people were dancing, many swaying to the beat of whatever music was playing. Some people were making out around, some people were grouped with their friends. His eyes fell on a girl standing in a corner by herself. She looked like a freshman, she was kind of short, she had long red hair braided down her back, freckles dotted her face and arms, shone through her blue, short-sleeved, knee-length dress. 

Louis nudged Ford's arm. "Go talk to her," he signed. 

He made a confused face.

"She's really nice," Louis told him. "I see her around the library a lot."

Ford looked back at the shy girl staring into her drink. Then back to his friend, his gay friend that he's been thinking about in odd ways— maybe he should go talk to that girl. 

"I'll go with you," Louis offered, "if you want."

Decision time, was he gonna stand here with Louis all night, or actually talk to a girl? He looked back up at Louis, handsome, warm, lovely Louis— "okay," he decided. "Let's go," he smoothed his turtle neck a little.

"That's the spirit," he spoke, guessing at an appropriate volume, chuckling. 

Louis leads him over, he greeted, "hello, Meghan."

She looked up, a little startled, "oh. Hi, Louis," she gave a small smile. 

"Nice to see you. Have you met my friend Ford?" Louis asked. 

"Oh, no. I-I think we have astronomy together, though," she smiled a little to Ford, tucking a rouge hair behind her ear.

"I think so," Ford gave a friendly smile to the girl. 

"Hey, sorry if this sounds weird, but aren't you supposed to be really smart?"

Ford chuckled, "something like that," he rubbed the back of his neck. 

"Don't let him fool you, he is," Louis told her. 

She giggled a little. "Man, I have trouble doing my astronomy stuff," she shrugged. 

Louis nodded to Ford a little, only enough for him to notice. 

"Maybe, um, I could help you with it sometime," he suggested. 

She turned a little pink, "sure, okay." 

They continued talking, Louis speaking up when they needed a nudge. Ford wouldn’t remember what they talked about. Or (thanks to the drinks) much from this point on in the night. 

But Louis would. 

———

Ford woke to a pounding headache. He groaned but felt arms around his waist. Turning, he found Louis was spooning him. He flushed but smiled a little to himself. 

"Morning," Louis mumbled against the nape of Ford's neck.

Ford groaned again, rolling to face Louis, "what the hell happened last night?"

"You had a lot to drink," Louis told him. "I'll tell you everything, but first, breakfast."

Ford hummed, letting Louis get up. Soon, he brought over coffee, gulping a cup himself before heading to shower quickly. He changed into his normal attire and made some eggs. 

They sat on Ford's bed and ate in silence. 

Once done, Ford noticed Louis seemed deep in thought, "Louis?"

He snapped out of it, "yeah?"

"What're you thinking?"

He sighed, "you remember anything from last night?"

Ford thought about it, "I uh... remember drinking. There was that girl, Maddison?"

"Meghan," Louis corrected. 

"Right. I remember talking to her, I don't remember what about."

"Nothing else? Just talking to her?"

"Yeah," Ford racked his brain, then looked at Louis, "I didn't have sex with her, did I?"

"No," Louis assured him, "but um, you did kiss her."

"Oh," he tried hard to remember it, but couldn't. "How did you...?"

"You told me," he said. "You found me afterward and we... talked."

"About what?" Ford asked nervously. Oh, God. Did he tell him anything embarrassing? Did he tell him about his feelings? Or about Stan?

"Well," he scratched his head, thinking carefully about his words. "You told me the kiss with Meghan wasn't... great. That it was underwhelming."

"Oh," Ford said, maybe it was better he didn't remember it, then. 

"Then well, you kissed  _ me _ , Ford."

"What?" Ford screeched. 

"Don't worry, I stopped you right away," he assured. "I knew that you were drunk enough that you weren't thinking clearly."

Ford was bright red, why the hell would he do such a thing? Yeah, he wanted to, he thought about it sometimes, but to actually do it? 

"And you did express some feelings you said you've had for a while," Louis told him. 

Ford groaned,  _ how could he be so stupid _ ? 

Louis's hand found his shoulder, "look, we don't need to talk about it now, or even if you don't want to— if those things are even true. Just know... the feeling is mutual, and if you'd ever like to talk, I'd like that. If you wish to never speak of this again, that's fine as well," he gave a fond smile, before standing and grabbing his jacket and messenger bag. "I'll see you after work," he called before heading out.

Ford sat in shock. 

What the  _ hell _ happened last night? What had he told Louis? Did he really tell him he liked him? Did Louis really mean that when he said the feeling is mutual?

—last night—

At some point, Louis had left the two alone. Meghan had moved to lean against Ford's side, Ford had put his arm around her. 

"Ford, can I tell you something," she whispered. 

He hummed.

"I um.. I've kind of had a crush on you for a while," she said sheepishly. 

Ford moved his head so he could look at her, "really?"

"Yeah," she blushed a little, "you're really cute, and I heard you were really smart. You seem really nice."

"Oh, um. Thank you," he chuckled awkwardly. "I um... I think you're really pretty." It wasn't a lie, she was pretty, she was nice, she even liked him, he was even pretty drunk... so why didn't he like her? 

She giggled, turning wildly red. She looked up at Ford, eyes starry. He was frozen, no girl had ever looked at him like that. She started leaning toward him. 

C'mon, Stanford, he told himself, now or never. You gotta at least make an effort if you're gonna not spend the rest of your life alone, or with—

Before he let that thought finish, he closed the gap between him and Meghan. 

Her lips were soft, coated in some slightly sticky lip gloss, she tasted like the mystery punch with a hint of cherry and mint. She wrapped her arms around Ford's shoulders, and his hands found her waist. It was nice, but Ford couldn't help but feel underwhelmed.  _ This _ is what people fuss so much about? It's not supposed to feel like this, is it? 

When they separated, she absolutely beamed up at Ford.

There was no way they'd felt the same thing, Ford decided. She felt whatever you were supposed to feel, she must've felt it. 

"Ford?" Her eyes were concerned now. 

He cleared his throat, hiding his... whatever he was feeling from her. He put on a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, "yes?"

"Are you okay?" She saw straight through it. 

"I um... yeah. I've just never done that before."

"Oh," she gave a sheepish smile, "well, I haven't either," she said brightly. 

He smiled a little more genuinely, she seemed really nice, but... this wasn't right. He didn't like her—  _ couldn't _ like her. He didn't like this, holding a nice girl like this. 

There is no reason he should like this lovely girl, he thought. Was there something wrong with him? What if he could never like anyone? That isn't true, Ford thought, what about Louis? Oh God, he realized, was he really  _ that way _ ? Was he really... like Louis?

Louis.... he needed to find Louis. 

Meanwhile, the man in question had made his way into the backyard. He'd been sitting out there under a tree for who knows how long. He opened a new beer and brought it to his lips. Good thing he'd always done well in the cold. It wasn't exactly freezing outside. However, most people would be uncomfortable sitting on the ground alone for any long period, hence why no one else was out there. To say Louis was comfortable wouldn't be the truth, but he didn't really care. 

Thoughts plagued him, things he didn't like to think about, things he'd rather forget. Sighing, he leaned his head back against the trunk of the tree. 

At least his friends were having fun, he thought. Evan's finally off his back, Ford's off talking to a nice girl. He sighed again, pounding the rest of the beer in his hand. 

The thought of his ex-wife swam through his thoughts again. He pushed up his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, blindly fumbling for the rest of his six-pack. 

"You better marry that young lady you've been seeing," he could still hear his mother, "before you end up sad and alone," she poked his chest, "like your mother."

'Well, ma,' he thought, 'see how all that turned out.'

Sighing again, his hands found the cold beer. He grabbed another, he wasn't much drunk at all, which he would thank himself for in the morning, for more than just the conventional reasons. 

He cracked his eyes open to open the new can, seeing someone walking up. He didn't bother to look at the newcomer, for all he knew, it could be the guys coming to punch him again, fresh black eye from earlier in the night throbbing at the thought. Maybe they'd string him up as a piñata for Bryan's birthday. 

But the newcomer didn't punch him or tie him up, he sat next to him, grabbing a beer for himself from the six-pack. 

He glanced over to find Ford, which surprised him. 

"Greetings," he said.

"Hey, man. Did something happen?" He spoke and signed, worried for his friend. "What happened with Meghan?"

It was now that Louis spotted the pink-tinted lip gloss on Ford's own lips. "Well, we kissed," Ford shrugged. 

"That's great," Louis managed, pushing aside his... other feelings, "t-then what?"

"Well," he rubbed the back of his neck, "it um... was okay?"

"Was that a question?" Louis raised an eyebrow. 

"I don't know, it didn't feel right," he shook his head, "everyone always seems to think it's incredible or-or something. It just seemed I don't know, tolerable?"

"The kiss?" Louis was confused. 

"Yeah," he shrugged. "I... I just don't get it."

Louis hummed thoughtfully, "well, I guess I felt like that for a while too."

"How did you fix it?" He beamed up at the tall man. 

Louis hesitated, should he really say this? He'll give the poor boy a crisis, but he did ask. "I stopped kissing women." 

"Oh," Ford nodded. "And started...?"

Louis sighed, "started kissing men, yes."

"Oh," Ford nodded again. He looked up at Louis for a long moment, as if he was debating something. When suddenly, he reached up and pulled Louis into a kiss. Soft lips with a slight stickiness of lip gloss, that mostly tasted like the cheap liquor in the 'mystery punch' pressed against Louis's own.

Louis froze for a second, before pushing his friend away, "Ford, I—"

"Hold on, it was working," Ford mumbled, trying to meet his lips again.

"Ford, really—“

"For science," he huffed, "we have to do it again," he almost begged, "three makes a pattern."

"Science," Louis echoed, "how about you try some chemistry—"

"That's what I'm trying to—"

"Not that kind of— ugh. How about some psychology, then?"

Ford groaned in annoyance. 

"The alcohol is impeding your judgment, Ford—“

"Just one more," he tried to pull back in. "That was it, I felt it—"

"Stanford!" Louis said firmly. 

He froze, "you— you've never called me that before."

"You need to listen to me," Louis signed and spoke gently, "you are drunk. Very drunk. You're not thinking clearly. You do not want these things, you're confused, okay?"

"But-but I do!" Ford insisted, "I've wanted these things for so long, Louis. I... I like you, okay?"

Louis was quiet for a moment, "Ford, you're still drunk. Whether or not that is true, I'm not going to let you make that kind of call until you're not drunk."

"Louis, I can't tell you these things sober," he sighed, "let alone... do what I did."

"Well... I'm going to have to tell you it happened in the morning."

"Huh?"

"You're not going to remember it," Louis told him, "you're pretty drunk, man."

Ford covered his face for a moment, "ugh, I'm such an ass," he mumbled, knowing Louis couldn't hear or see he was even talking. He peeked through, moving his hands to continue signing, "you don't like... hate me, do you?"

Louis scoffed humorously, "hate you." He waved Ford off, "don't worry, I don't hate you."

Ford thought for a second, "so, you really think I won't remember this in the morning?" He asked. 

"I'd bet money."

He hummed, "okay, then can I ask you something? You don't have to worry about what I think, because in the morning I'll be just as enamored with you as I've always been."

Louis thought for a second, "okay, but I have the right to veto."

"Deal," Ford smiled. 

"What's the question?"

"What do you honestly think about me? Do you... like me back?"

Louis chuckled a little, "Ford, I think you're incredible. You're so brilliant, I could listen to you talk all day." He reached over and put his hand on Ford's cheek, "you're so damn adorable all the time— like, unfairly adorable. I'm not just talking about the way you look, either. The way you carry yourself, the way you light up when you talk about something you find really interesting. The way you tell stories with that 'narrator voice' you get," he laughed a little. "You're just the best. You're  _ so incredibly wonderful _ , and I can't just fucking tell you that because, whether you are or not, you think you're straight and I don't want to give you a god damn crisis or lose you as my friend."

Ford beamed, unable to believe what he was hearing. Louis liked him all this time? "So," he asked sheepishly, "if I were to kiss you sober, you'd...?"

"I'd kiss you back," Louis chuckled.

"And you wouldn't push me away?"

"No, Ford."

"And the only reason you wouldn’t do it first is that you don't want to give me a crisis?"

"That's correct."

Ford nodded like he was wrapping his head around the whole thing. "So you really do like me?"

"Yes, Ford."

"Holy shit," he blinked.

"Jesus, you're drunk," Louis laughed to himself. Pulling Ford closer, the shorter curled up into him. Louis checked his watch, "it's getting late."

Ford hummed, "I'm kind of all partied out," he sat up and stretched. 

"Yeah, me too," Louis smiled fondly at Ford. 

"One last question?" Ford suggested. Louis made a gesture for him to continue. "When you tell me about this in the morning, will you tell me how you feel?"

He thought for a moment, "maybe, do you think I should?"

"Well, I'll be able to hear it for the first time again, and I like that thought."

"I'll think about it, okay?" He kissed Ford's forehead.

"Why do you get to do it and I don't?" Ford whined. 

"I'm not that drunk," he stood up, helping Ford to his feet, "and it wasn't your mouth."

Ford was too busy feeling warm and fuzzy about the affection to argue much more.

Louis leads him back through the house, finding Evan in a bedroom pinned to the wall by a tall jock. The jock kissed his neck and shoulders as Evan dug out his keys and threw them to Louis. 

Not lingering any longer, they went out to the old beater Evan drove. Louis put in his hearing aid before driving back to the dorms. He could drive fine without it, it just made him feel a little better. 

When the pair arrived there, Louis had to just about carry Ford to their room. Once inside, Louis put Ford to bed, but Ford pulled him into bed with him. 

"Fine," Louis didn't fight much, "but no funny business."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Ford giggled, cuddling close.

"Mhm," Louis hummed, wrapping his arms around him. He kissed the top of his head before they both fell deeply into sleep. 


	7. Damage control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford decides to properly confess to Louis, but they’re interrupted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: medical settings
> 
> Edited: big chunk rewritten for the better, hopefully.
> 
> Edited again: later parts added to

It had been a week since the party. Ford had been thinking about what Louis had told him the morning after almost constantly. He couldn't get over it. He'd kissed Louis? Louis didn't hate him for it— in fact, said he'd liked him too. They hadn't talked about it since, but there was a bit of tension between them. Nothing negative, of course, just the silent knowledge they had about each other's feelings, and wondering if it'll ever go anywhere. 

God damn, Ford did want it to go somewhere, he decided. Louis was so amazing. Ford would often catch himself staring much more frequently. Thoughts about crawling into bed with him, kissing him, being held by him, etc. plagued him often. After so long feeling so many confusing things, he knew he could take his time to be sure that this was what he really wanted— but he didn’t want to think anymore, he wanted to act. He just so desperately wished to be closer to his tall roommate, deciding it was enough. 

That's how Ford found himself at Evan's door. Louis had been right, in that if Evan got a boyfriend, they'd likely cease to be more than friendly acquaintances. He didn't come around much anymore, but he didn't know who else to go to. 

Ford knocked, and soon the door opened. "Oh my god," the blond smiled mischievously. "So, are you finally ready to talk about it?"

"What?"

"Oh, please. I know it, you know it, Louis probably knows it," he chuckled, "come in, come in," he stepped aside waving the other in.

Ford stepped inside, rubbing the back of his neck. 

"C'mon, sit," Evan sat on his bed, patting the space next to him. Ford sat. "Tell me what happened."

"Well, you remember the party?"

"Parts of it," Evan shrugged. 

"Honestly, I don't remember much of it," he chuckled awkwardly. "But Louis does, and um... while I was drunk apparently I kissed him and told him I... I like him."

Evan squealed, "I knew it!"

"You did?"

"Yeah, Louis didn't want to assume anything, but I knew."

"Wait... Louis has talked to you about this?"

"Well I didn't know about this business at the party, but Louis told me about his _massive_ crush on you," Evan shrugged, "not that he needed to. You're so his type. You could see it from space."

"I couldn't see it," Ford mumbled. 

"Because you're too wrapped up in your own confusion," Evan explained. "I've been there, buddy, and believe it or not, so has Louis."

Ford hummed, it did make sense. Since when was Evan so wise? Well, Ford did go to him for advice, he supposed. 

"Anyway, so you kissed him and confessed, then what?"

"I don't exactly know. I just woke up in the morning, he told me what I did, and told me that he felt the same."

"And then?"

Ford shrugged, "we haven't talked about it since."

"Oh, you're here to figure out the next step," he realized. 

"Yeah, um," Ford wasn't one to really ask for help, but he needed it. "I've just never done this kind of thing before, you know Louis, what do I do?"

Evan hummed, tapping his chin, "if I know Louis, I know he's gonna think any of my ideas are overdone. Louis is a genuine kind of guy, you want my honest advice, just talk to him."

"What do I say?"

"That you're ready to talk about that night, about the way you feel," he said. "He likes honesty and straight-forwardness. No pun intended."

Ford chuckled.

"Just be real with him, if you have hang-ups or boundaries, tell him. If you're not sure about this or that, tell him. Hell, if you have weird needs, tell him. Louis would move a mountain for the people he cares about. He'd bend over backward to make you happy, Ford. I can't tell you how much he's gushed to me about how much he likes you," he smiled, "if this is what you want, go for it. If you need a little more time to think, that's okay too. He'd wait. If you're never ready to be more than friends, Louis would cherish your friendship deeply, and be happy to have you in his life in any capacity. If you decided you never wanted to see him again, he'd understand completely. Even if you had no reason, he'd leave you alone for the rest of your days to respect your wishes." He went on, becoming a little sterner, "Louis is a very special, incredible man. Don't hurt him."

Ford shook his head wildly, "I couldn't even think of it."

Evan smiled, "good. Moving forward isn't a commitment, Ford. If you try this out and realize this isn't what you want, that's okay. He'll understand."

Ford nodded. It was good to know that this was something he could back out of if he decided this wasn't right. He felt lucky to have fallen for someone as laid back and sincere as Louis. Someone that would go at Ford's pace, never expect more than he could give. He thanked Evan for his advice and rose to leave. 

"Go get 'em, tiger," Evan teased. 

"Tiger?" Ford echoed. He was hardly a house cat in this circumstance. 

Evan gave him a more sincere look, "seriously, Ford, come back anytime you need to talk." A more mischievous look followed, "I know you'll be back when things get a little more... _Serious_ ," he wiggled his eyebrows. 

Ford flushed bright red, stumbled through a goodbye, and headed back to his own dorm. He prepared to talk to Louis. 

———

Louis came home that night to find Ford sitting awkwardly on his bed. "Hello?" He said. 

"Greetings," he chirped, clearly nervous about something. "Can um, can we talk?"

Louis's eyes widened, but he quickly put on a guarded expression. "'Course we can, Ford," he came over and sat with him. "What's up?"

Ford cleared his throat, "I want to talk about what happened at the party."

"Okay," Louis said, unsure of how to proceed. 

"And um, what you told me the next morning."

"Mhm."

"Do you still-still feel that way?"

Louis hesitated, but answered, "yes, I do." 

“Then, I have something I would like to tell you,” he said. Ford had decided to fork over a little more than an open and shut confession. Opening up a little and offering more vulnerability here— a leap of faith into this new kind of relationship he intended to have with Louis. Ford might not know much about being in a relationship, but he knew you were supposed to be open with each other. Following this logic, Ford decided it would be good to touch on a few things he didn’t like to talk about— to show in some way that he was prepared to share new things with Louis. Another perk would be that if it happened awkwardly— if he couldn’t speak well about these things or his feelings, then this would immediately prepare Louis for how awkward he— would likely be for a while anyway.

Ford gathered his thoughts quietly for a moment. "At the end of high school," he began, feeling out his speech as it went, "just before coming to Backupsmore and meeting you, something... happened. One night tore my family apart, I lost my..." Ford paused, and sighed, deciding he wasn’t quite ready to bring his twin up yet, "someone very close.

"My life was a mess. I mean I-I almost went to West Coast Tech on a full-ride but in one night all of it: destroyed. After that, I was, well, I was fucked. My career dangled in front of my face and snuffed out as quickly as it was offered— like lighting your only match for a caveman.

"Not to mention how Pa got extra on my ass now that I was his only son other than an infant. Or how Ma kept sneaking into the kitchen to talk on the phone with the guy who—" Ford had to take a breath. He had been starting to raise his voice thinking about it again. He figured it was more than he had talked about it since it happened, and was a step forward. "I digress," he looked back up at Louis, wonderful, lovely Louis, who'd been patiently listening like he didn't mind the rambling at all.

Ford continued, "after the single _worst_ summer of my life, I came here. I wasn't looking forward to it, I resented that I had to be here."

Louis chuckled, "welcome to Backupsmore University," he added sarcastically.

Ford chuckled too, then was quiet for a beat, "but then I met you," he said in a small voice.

At this, something bloomed in Louis's eyes, recognizable to Ford having seen that look on his face before. It usually showed up when it came to things between them. Ford first remembers seeing it after they went to the diner for the first time, and Ford had proposed they go again sometime (as was still their weekly ritual). It looked hopeful and happy, now looking fond as well, but all filtered through a more guarded front. 

A blush spread over Ford's cheeks, but he ignored it and pressed on. "You were my only ally and friend in this shithole. I couldn't wait to talk to you every day. I just... I've never met someone I wanted to know so badly before," He gently placed one of his wide, six-fingered hands in one of Louis's long, thin ones. "I relished, and of course I still do, our time. Our conversations were like a heated blanket in an igloo," he didn't know where all the similes had come from, but later he would chalk it up to being a cliche (if clumsy) romantic. The idea made Louis chuckle, so he figured it wasn't that bad. "I've never met anyone like you, Louis," his eyes sparkled, feeling so free to be talking about all of this, "you're incredible."

Louis squeezed his hand gently, to make sure it was really there, "Ford, I..."

"I haven't stopped thinking of what you told me that morning," Ford knew he wouldn't need to specify _which_ morning. "I don't know what I said to you at the party, but I don't think my... drunken babbling properly conveyed how I feel," he scoffed, "hell, I don't know if my sober babbling can ever convey how I feel." He looked up, blue eyes big and shiny behind his glasses, meeting Louis's with purpose, "Louis, I really fucking like you. I..." He lost a little momentum, feeling like he could see the emotion and thought processes in Louis's eyes as the words left his mouth. "I want to... expand on that."

Louis held his breath, "expand on it, you mean...?"

Ford fidgeted, he had hoped he had made it clear enough that he wouldn’t have to keep going, "I would like um... I'd like to..." He was starting to turn red again. 

"Ford," Louis scooted closer, and squeezed his hand, still laid in his own, "I need to hear you say it," he spoke so softly. "I know it might not be easy, but I... I need to make sure I've got this right."

Ford's eyes, big like dinner plates, stared up at him, "I want to be with you."

The guarded look broke away, into one of joy, "you mean it?"

Ford nodded happily. “D-do you wanna be with me?” He asked, awkwardly 

Louis laughed and pulled Ford into a tight hug. He laughed too, squeezing the other tightly.

“Oh, Ford,” Louis sighed happily. “I’d be thrilled to be with you,” he answered. 

Ford grinned widely at the confirmation. After a beat, he figured a different confession was in order, “Louis, I’ve never done anything like this before,” he offered. “I’ve never... been with anyone.”

Louis hummed, “I know, it’s okay.”

”I might be bad at this,” he tried.

He chuckled, “maybe you will be,” he shrugged, “but I don’t mind. We’ll get there.”

A peaceful quiet fell over them for a few moments, shuffling the hug into more of a cuddle, leaning their backs against the wall. Arms tucked around each other, Ford leaning into Louis’s side. The shorter’s head fell into the crook of the other’s neck, Louis’s chin resting on The top of Ford’s head.

Ford breathed in aftershave, cigarettes, and books. He broke the silence "you smell so nice," he sighed. 

The other hummed, hand traveling into Ford’s mess of curls, “your hair is so soft."

"You're so warm." Ford felt so free, admitting these things out loud. 

"You fit so nicely in my arms," Louis squeezed him.

"You give the best hugs."

"You're so cute."

"You're so handsome."

Louis pulled back to look at his companion, their eyes met, Ford's flicked to the other's lips, wondering once again what they would feel like. Louis seemed to think the same thing, breathing his last compliment, "your lips were so soft."

Ford flushed but didn't stop himself from leaning in. Louis put his hand on Ford's cheek, so close. Ford closed his eyes, closer still, he could feel Louis's breath against his face. Finally, lips barely graze against each other, making Ford shiver, just before the gap closes—

The phone rings. The two dart away from one another, startled. Louis groans, covering the microphone on his hearing aid, the loud, high-pitched noise causing it to send loud squeaking noises through his ear. 

Frustrated, Ford gets up, he pulls the phone to his ear, "yeah?" He answers impatiently. He'd been waiting so long and was so close. This better be important, he thought.

"Ford, right?" A woman on the other line said. 

"Yeah, that's me."

"Okay. This is Louis's sister, Marcy," she sounded frantic. "I need you to get Louis asap, it's an emergency."

"Emergency, what kind of emergency?" He says quietly, not wanting to alarm Louis. 

"Tell him Fern got stung and is having a reaction and he's being taken to the hospital."

"Holy shit," he breathed. He immediately wished it was less important. Cursing himself for thinking that it should be to be worth tearing away from Louis as if he’d put the man’s son in the hospital with the thought. “I'll get him up there right away." 

"Thank you," she huffed, before hanging up. 

He hung up too. 

"What's going on?" Louis asked. 

"Get your coat," Ford told him. "I'm driving you to your family right now."

He stared for a second, but threw on his coat anyway, and followed Ford to his car. He'd never been more thankful for the thing. They hopped in, and Louis, hiding the panic in his voice, told him where to go to put him on track to the town his family lived in. Ford was speeding as much as he was comfortable with, bobbing and weaving through cars. 

Once on the interstate, Louis couldn't wait anymore, "Ford, what's going on?"

"It's Fern," he said. "He's been stung and had a reaction, they've taken him to the hospital."

Louis covered his mouth but nodded. 

Ford gripped the steering wheel tighter, determined to make the journey as short as possible. 

Within record time, they reached the town, Louis directing him to the hospital. The car had barely stopped when Louis was running out of it. Ford parked and quickly followed. 

Louis was at the front desk, "what room is Vernon Parrish in?" He panted. 

"Louis," a short brunette woman in the hall waved her arms. Her hair was neatly tucked into a bun, and she was wearing an ash gray button-up, tucked into purple high-waisted slacks with sensible white heels. 

Louis didn't seem to notice her. 

Ford tapped his shoulder, pointing to the woman.

"Marcy!" He ran to her, pulling Ford by the wrist. "What happened? Is he okay?"

She glanced between Louis and Ford, but lead them to a room. 

There was a brunette boy with freckles in the hospital bed, he was swollen, covered in hives, and wheezing a little, and unconscious. 

Louis covered his mouth, eyes becoming glassy. Unconsciously, his hand tightened on Ford's wrist. He looked to Marcy, "what happened?"

She signed as she spoke to him, "something about a hive some kids knocked down, daycare isn't really talking."

Louis nodded and let Ford go and pulled a chair up by the boy, taking his small hand.

"He's gonna be okay," she told him. She gently touched Fern's arm where there was a very large red welt, "they counted 16 stings."

"Holy shit," he breathed. Louis gently brushed his fingers against a swollen cheek where there was another welt like that. "He's always had weird reactions to bug bites and stuff," he remembered. "Poor guy," he sighed. 

Marcy looked like she wanted to say something else, but decided against it. Instead, she looked up at the man her brother had come in with, "we haven't properly met, I'm Marcy," she put a hand out. Now that he was closer to her, Ford could see that she had the same long, thin nose Louis did.

"Hi, I'm Ford," he shook her hand. "Nice to finally meet you."

"You too," she gave a tired smile. "Heard a lot about you," she said, mischievously. 

Ford flushed, had Louis talked to her about him the way he'd gushed to Evan? 

"Marce, don't tease the man," Louis said, there was a bit of an edge to his voice, one Ford had only seen him use on Evan. Maybe Louis's relationship with his sister wasn't exactly as peachy as he'd always implied, Ford wondered. 

"All good things," she winked at Ford, ignoring the tone of her bother's voice. 

Louis reached over, pulling Ford by the sleeve closer, "change in subject," he said, "how long are they keeping him?" He nodded towards his son, redirecting the conversation to the whole reason they were there. 

"Tonight for sure, probably tomorrow night," she told him. 

Louis nodded, "I'll call work," he said, "I won't leave him here."

"Good," she said like she doubted he would in the first place, which Ford thought was odd. Again she looked like she was deciding if she should say something, this time deciding to speak up, "I called Val."

Louis groaned, "why would you call her?"

"She's his _mother_ , Louis," she hissed. 

Ford stood awkwardly, Louis's ex-wife? Was she going to come down here? Would he have to meet her?

"She chose to—" Louis started, realizing his voice was a little too loud. He resumed, but much quieter, "Val and I agreed she stays out of his life."

"She should know something happened—"

"Marcy," Louis said firmly, clearly trying to control his feelings. "That is not yours to decide. _Once again_ , you've crossed a line." 

Ford wondered what that last part meant. Did she often disregard Louis's wishes? 

"If something happened with Abby and Nate didn't call me, I'd be pissed," Marcy crossed her arms stubbornly.

"What you and Nate have is _not_ what Val and I ever had," Louis told her, trying to keep his cool. "What did she say, anyway?"

"That she hopes he gets better," Marcy shrugs. "It's not a big deal—“

"That is not your place, Marcy. That is not debatable, it is not yours to decide." He took a deep breath, trying to remove the actual anger in his voice— something that didn't really have a place in Louis's voice hardly ever. "You _need_ to stop doing this shit," he told her.

"You're the one who leaves him with me all the time!" Marcy practically shrieked at her brother, not caring how loud her voice was or who heard her. "You don't like it, you can just—" she paused, glancing at Ford, standing awkwardly. Whether it was because she didn't want to do this in front of Ford, or it was Louis's actual death glare he was giving her, she let it go for now. She postured back up, "Louis, we need to talk about some things," she started. 

He looked up at her, then to the freckled boy in the hospital bed. The same tired expression on his face Ford saw the day he met him. When he'd been told that Mrs. Roberts was sleeping at the desk and that he would have to go cover for her. Now, his son was unconscious in the hospital, and wanted to focus on getting him back to wellness, "is now really the time?" It wasn't like he loved leaving Fern with his sister all time anyway. Aside from the obvious reason that he missing his boy, he got real fucking tired of Marcy holding it over his head all the time, the things she thought she should be able to get away with because of it. Sometimes she really got on his nerves. She often did things like this, things that took away from what they should really be worried about-- _who_ they should really be worried about. When Louis had decided to go to school, Marcy was behind him 100%. She had _volunteered_ to look after Fern while Louis was away. Now she acts like the quiet little boy is a burden. Yes, she'd agreed upon this four years ago, but if she really didn't want to look after Fern anymore, Louis thought, she could just approach it with him like a reasonable person. 

She just sighed. 

Ford was watching the argument quietly. He knew it was wildly wrong, but watching the sibling quarrel almost made him feel better. Seeing that Louis's only connection to the rest of his family outside of his son wasn't as strong as he made it seem. Seeing that he and his sister clearly had issues, that they strongly disagreed in some areas. Watching Marcy start the interaction off by trying to tease her bother about his roommate like everything was fine between them when clearly they've had issues for a while. It was so much like Stan the night of the science fair. Maybe it wasn't this bad all the time, but to see Louis lose composure like that made Ford feel better. He felt even closer to Louis like they might have a little more in common than they thought. 

"Look, Marce," Louis told her rubbing his temples tiredly, "I know things need to change, and I'm going to change them," he assured her. "We will talk, okay? But right now, Fern's been through a lot. This isn't about you, or me, or anyone else. It's about Fern."

Marcy took a deep breath and nodded. 

A nurse came in and started to check on Fern. 

Marcy took the opportunity to slip off to the cafeteria.

Once the nurse was gone, leaving Louis, Ford, and Fern, Louis hunched over his son. One hand still holding his, the other gently touching his cheek again. He took a deep breath, "oh, buddy," he sighed, barely above a whisper. "Things are gonna get better, okay? I promise," he brushed some hair from his son's face. (Which Ford noticed that Parrish nose on the boy as well.) Sighing, he wiped his own face and leaned back. Ford realized Louis had let some tears slip while facing away from him. Without thinking, Ford reached out to wipe Louis's cheek. He looked up at him, sighing again. An arm snaked around Ford's waist, pulling him closer. "I'm sorry, Ford, for all of this," he said softly, words muffled against his roommate's torso. "Thank you for driving me up here."

"Of course," Ford huffed, tucking Louis closer to him, forgetting they weren't exactly in their dorm where no one could see them. "I'm sorry about Fern," he offered. 

"Eh, he'll be alright. Tough kid, this one," he chuckled, fondness and worry dripping through. He leaned back from their little hug, still facing Ford with his other hand still in his son's. 

"Takes after his dad then," Ford hummed. 

"You flatter in trying times," Louis chuckled. He looked worriedly back at his boy. He adjusted the blankets around him, looking at the small machine to his side displaying his heartbeat. He was so worried. 

Ford figured if _he'd_ been lying in that bed, looking as swollen as Fern, and his father had to come down to see him, he wouldn’t be nearly this worried. As soon as he was conscious, Filbrick would've chewed his ass for the medical expenses he would have to pay. 

He remembered Louis was about to change his whole career for this boy. Giving up his doctorates, his chance to be a famous researcher, and settling for a librarian at _Backupsmore_ of all places to be able to be around Fern. Sure, he hadn't really made his decision, (for him it was about having the money to support Fern, to send him to college, and give him as much opportunity as he could. (Which made Ford wonder if it was connected to Louis going to Backupsmore if it was about giving Fern a better chance than he had— but he realized he didn’t know why Louis was at BMU at all,)) but he knew it kept Louis up at night. 

Louis moved his free hand to lace his fingers with Ford's, snapping him from his thoughts. His cheeks burned, but he gave Louis a shy smile, he gave a watery-eyed one back. 

The taller cleared his throat, "thank you for bringing me here, Ford. I'll have to give you gas money Monday—"

"Don't bother," Ford told him, "how many times have you paid for dinner for us?"

Louis chuckled, "and we'll go again next Friday," he gave a little wink, reminding Ford of their newfound... thing? 

What were they? Were they like... boyfriends now? Ford reddened a little at the idea, not that it was bad. These were questions for later. 

"Don't feel like you have to stay, though," Louis grabbed Ford from his thoughts, "I'll just stay here over the weekend, catch the bus back like normal."

"Nonsense," Marcy's voice startled them both, instantly untangling their fingers, when had she returned? "Ford, you're more than welcome to stay with us for the weekend," she suggested. "I know Louis mentioned you've been loving my husband's cooking, you can have some fresh meals, no?"

"Marcy, have you forgotten why we're here?" Louis gestured to his sick boy. He couldn't believe how much she didn't seem to understand why that's not super appropriate to ask while we're here for a _sick child_. 

"Well, yeah, but now that he's here, we must pay him back for bringing you." She walked a little closer, "I insist, Ford. I'm sure the family would love to meet you."

"He's got class tomorrow," Louis told her. 

"Only a few," Ford reminded him. "And I do have a connection with a certain library hand," he grinned shyly. 

"Perfection," Marcy squealed a little.

"Hold on, you two," Louis reached under his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Ford, as much as I _can't wait_ for my family to embarrass the hell out of me for your entertainment, there's kind of bigger stuff going on. I'm going to be up here with Fern all night, and probably all day tomorrow." He gave a tired smile, "it's not that I don't want you here, but it's not really going to be a lotta fun for a bit, you know?"

Ford thought for a moment, Louis was right. He really wanted to spend more time with him, but he knew Louis needed to be with Fern right now, and he didn't want to get in the way of that. 

"What about a compromise?" Marcy asked. Ford and Louis both looked at her, "go to your classes tomorrow, come back for dinner tomorrow night, and you still get the whole weekend."

"We don't even know if he'll be out of here by then," Louis gestured to Fern. 

"Call before you leave?" She suggested. "I'll give you our phone number and I'll tell you how it's looking."

Ford sheepishly looked at Louis, "is that okay?"

Louis's confused look at his sister softened as he turned to Ford, "do you want to?" As long as Fern is okay, Louis reasoned, maybe that's not the worst thing. He mostly didn't want Fern to think that his dad was any less worried about him, or gonna put him aside for a second while he's been sick.

Ford nodded. 

Louis thought for a moment. It would be kind of nice to unwind a little with Ford. He nodded back, "okay, Ford." He leaned to look over at his sister, who was celebrating, "this isn't a win for you," his tone was much lighter as he spoke to her this time. 

"I think it is," she said, proudly. 

Ford chuckled at them. Looking back to Louis, he gave another smile, "so I'll see you this weekend?"

He smiled back, "yeah, man. Be prepared for family shenanigans."

"Oh, I'll be prepared," he giggled. 

Louis hummed, and they shared a hug, "tell the dean I'm taking June's position," Louis whispered. 

Ford grinned, he was a sweet man. He bid Marcy goodbye, while she was gushing about her excitement for this weekend. 

Tomorrow will be a slow day, he thought. His mind filling with questions of what the weekend will hold. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They probably wouldn't have had a phone in their room, but bear with me, y'all. 
> 
> Also, I'm not sure if allergies to insect stings were very common in the '70s, because I know that like, nut allergies weren't much of a thing before the '90s... Maybe I sound really dumb... again, bear with me, friends.


	8. I like fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weekend at Marcy’s place. Meet the Parrishes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year, friends! 
> 
> Sorry this chapter took a bit... I had a lot planned for it that didn’t make it in, so sorry if it’s a little aimless too.
> 
> Tw: depictions of violence
> 
> Edited: some stuff changed or added to

Fern was released from the hospital by Friday night, but he was still pretty exhausted. Upon Ford's call, Marcy happily told him to head on over. On the way, Ford stewed in his thoughts. 

What was the rest of Louis's family like? Would they like him? Did they know that Louis was a queer? Marcy seemed to know— she seemed to know there was something between him and Ford, too. Did they except him if they did know? Did Louis tell them he liked Ford? Or that something _was_ going on between them? Would Fern like him? What if he didn't? Ford had never been super good with kids. Shermie was still only a baby, so he wasn't a good example. 

Louis would love Shermie, Ford realized. His ma would love Louis. Well, she might not if she knew that something was going on between him and her son. Sweet Moses, what would Pa think? He'd disown him, it was an easy answer. It was hard to think Ma could ever disown him. She hadn't even really cut off Stanley. Ford knew they still talked. He shook those thoughts from his brain. Stan didn't deserve his worrying after what he'd done, Ford thought. Ignoring that he'd been worrying about him more and more. Louis would love Stanley. They'd be such good friends. They'd keep each other in line but also get into trouble together. _No_ , Ford reminded himself, no use thinking of that deadbeat. He sabotaged his future, why should he care where he ends up?

Ford thought back to watching Louis and Marcy fight. Louis didn't easily get angry with people, Ford had noticed. Even when he does, he will usually let himself be angry. He might've tried to control an outburst more because of his sick son, or because they were in a public place, but that didn't seem like Louis either. Ford thought back to feeling closer to Louis because of the argument. He wondered how often they fought, what it would take for Louis to cut off his sister for good if they really had that many problems. Could Louis cut her off if he decided to, or would he put up with it forever because she's family?

Ford wondered if Louis used to be close to his sister like he'd been with his twin. He wondered if the weekends Louis spent with his family were tense, the way time Ford spent with his family was now. 

Before he could dwell on these things too much, Ford was pulling up in front of the address Marcy had given him over the phone. It was a nice family home in the suburbs, with a big tree in front, on which was a tire swing. He grabbed his overnight bag and rang the doorbell. 

A small, ginger girl in pigtails and an overall skirt answered, "hi, my name is Abby, are you uncle Louis's friend?" She beamed. 

He looked down at the girl, startled a little by her excitement, "uh, yeah, that's me."

She squealed, and ran from the door, arms out like an airplane, "mommy! Mommy! Uncle Louis's friend is here!" 

"Honey, don't shout," Marcy's voice came from inside, "Fern is trying to sleep."

Abby gasped dramatically, "sorry."

By now Marcy was at the door, "hello, Ford. Please, come in," she smiled warmly, stepping aside to let him in. 

As soon as he entered the warm house, already decorated for Christmas, he could see Abby dragging her tall uncle by the hand to the door. Louis was dressed casually, wearing dark grey jeans, a black t-shirt, and a red baseball cap. A dog in tow, and a cat on the back of the couch.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Louis chuckled a little at the small girl. His eyes met Ford's, and brightened a little, "heya, Ford." Taking his hand back from the bouncing little girl, he moved to hug his friend hello.

"Hello, Louis," Ford grinned, relishing Louis's warm hold. The hug was short-lived, which he was glad enough for in front of people, "how is he?"

"Better," Louis nodded, "he's still exhausted, so he won't be joining us for dinner tonight."

"Poor kid."

"Yeah, he'll be okay, though," Louis assured. 

The dog, a little, squishy-faced thing, let out a little excited bark.

Louis looked down at him, "how could I forget," he swooped down to pick up the little fluff. He held the pup like a baby, "this is Bonk, he's Abby's dog."

"Bonk," Ford echoed, amused by the funny name. He patted Bonk hello. 

Louis put him down before gesturing to the blue-ish cat on the back of the sofa, staring at Ford with little interest, "that lazy thing is Twirp, she's also Abby's, and my mortal enemy," Louis shrugged. 

Ford had to giggle. 

Louis smiled and offered to take Ford's coat and bag. After hanging up his coat, he took Ford to the guest room where he was staying to put his things in there. "You're welcome to sleep in here with me," he said, quietly, "but I get if you don't want anyone to be suspicious, or anything."

Ford blushed a little, "I think for now I won't, just in case."

Louis nodded, "okay. If you change your mind I'm right in here," he smiled. "I'm sorry in advance for Marcy, or for any arguing between us— things have been a... little tense between us," he warned. "I didn't tell her anything about _us_ , but she knows me too well and has hardly any boundaries."

Ford hummed, "I see."

Louis seemed to check into the hallway, making sure they were unseen, "speaking of us," he lowered his voice as he turned back to Ford, who was turning red, "we never got to finish our _conversation_ the other day."

Ford smiled, remembering where they left off, how could he forget coming so close to kissing the man for real? "We didn't," he agreed. 

Louis grinned, pulling Ford closer, "shall we continue before dinner?"

Ford nodded, "I would like that."

"Good," Louis hummed, "because I keep thinking about it over and over," he said quietly, leaning down.

"I couldn't stop thinking about it," Ford said breathlessly, tipping his head up towards the taller man. 

He chuckled, putting his hand on Ford's cheek as he finally closed the gap, pressing his lips onto Ford's. 

Ford felt like he was flying. So wonderful and dangerous, he was almost dizzy. He was hit with so much at once, warmth and comfort and such a deep appreciation for the man he was kissing. His hands slid up to Louis's thin shoulders. 

Finally, they separated, both with stars in their eyes. Louis gave a smile, "we better get back out there," he whispered. 

Ford cleared his throat and nodded. He shamelessly slid his hands down Louis's arms as he stepped away from him. Louis chuckled at his sudden braveness. The shorter smiled, meeting eyes with Louis. Sharing a giggle, Louis quickly placed a kiss onto Ford's forehead, before ducking out of the room with a wink. Turning red, Ford followed suit. 

Back into the main hall, Marcy lead them to the dining room, where Abby was now setting the table. A ginger man in an apron came out of what must've been the kitchen, placing a serving bowl of something on the table. 

The man noticed them, and smiled, "hello," he greeted his guest, before pulling off his oven mitts and coming over to shake his hand. "You must be Ford, I'm Nate."

"Hello," Ford smiled, neither he nor his wife had said a word about his hands yet. 

"Dinner is almost ready, please sit," Nate offered. 

Marcy sat on one end, Nate would presumably sit at the other. Abby took a seat on the side next to her mother, Louis claimed the seat on the opposite side to her next to Nate, Ford across from his roommate. 

Grabbing a bowl, Louis scooped some fancy baked macaroni and cheese into it, "I'm gonna bring Fern something, I'll be back," he announced, before heading down a hall. 

Once he was gone, Ford noticed the small girl next to him was beaming up at him, "I like your hair," she said suddenly, "my mommy says uncle Louis likes boys with curly hair. Is that why Louis likes you?"

How do you even respond to that? "Uh..."

"No, I like him because he doesn't ask so many questions," Louis teased his niece, returning in time to defend Ford from awkward questions. 

How many things like that did Marcy just say around the small girl? 

Abby giggled, sticking her tongue out at him, a gesture he returned. 

Nate came back in, placing down a plate full of... was that homemade fried chicken? 

This was gonna be a good weekend. 

The food was delicious, fried chicken with Mac and cheese (because it was Fern's favorite) and green beans. "It's nothing, really," Nate had said, "just something I found in a magazine." He went on to explain most of his recipes came from his mother. His grandmother was from Italy, explaining why he made the best Italian food. "My ma told me 'you'll never get a woman if you can't woo her with food'," he chuckled. "Good thing, too, 'cause this one burns water," he gestured to Marcy. 

"Seen her do it," Louis agreed. 

"But Louis cooks," Marcy told Ford, a mischievous tone in her voice, "good husband material, that one."

"I'm sure," Ford chuckled, blushing a little. 

"Ah-ah, Louis only cooks when Louis feels like it," the man corrected, talking in the third person. 

"Or if you ask nicely enough," his sister chuckled. 

They began to ask Ford more normal questions, asking about where he was from, his majors, what he wanted to do after school, etc. 

Once dinner was finished, (Abby fighting her dad on eating the green beans, because vegetables are gross, Dad), Nate brought out some pie for dessert. Of course, it was to die for.

After dinner, Louis again checked on Fern, staying a bit longer with him this time. Luckily, Abby only used the opportunity to show Ford her recent drawings, instead of interrogating him. The young girl was quite spazzy, seemed a little scatterbrained like she had trouble focusing on one thing at a time.

She gasped suddenly as if she hadn't been mid-sentence, mid-story, she looked to Marcy, "mommy, mommy! Can we have a fire pit tonight? Oh, please, please, pleeease?"

She chuckled, the blue cat sprawled over her lap on the couch, "go ask your dad." 

She hopped up and ran off, arms out like a plane again. 

"Kind of a handful, that one, huh?" Marcy chuckled. 

"You could say that," Ford smiled. 

"Fern isn't like that," she offered, "doesn't talk a whole bunch."

Ford nodded, "I see."

"Louis was like that when we were kids, you know. Didn't talk much," she smiled, fondly. 

Ford could see it, Louis a quiet little boy. 

"I was the," she gestured in the direction her daughter had gone, "'so much to do so little time' kid."

Ford chuckled, he could see that too.

Louis returned then, carrying the dog like a baby again, "here we go with the embarrassing stories," he joked. 

"Well, someone's gotta embarrass you, you don't have ma to do it," she shrugged. 

"Sure don't," he said, tone a little too real. 

Abby wondered back in coming over to pet Bonk in her uncle's arms, "uncle Louis, do you wanna have a fire?"

He perked up, "I like fire."

———

The adults were still sitting around the fire pit in the backyard a couple of hours after Abby was sent to bed. They exchanged stories about this and that and had begun to share a few drinks as well. 

Nothing too noteworthy, other than Marcy trying to discreetly sign to Louis, "he really is cute. Are you still scoping him out or—"

Louis cut her off, speaking flatly, "Marcy, the man knows sign." 

She deflated a little, "oh," she said simply.

Ford noticing Louis squeezing his own leg and setting his jaw to keep his cool. What if Ford didn't know he was gay? What if she just outed him to him? Does she even understand why her teasing is so dangerous sometimes? 

Suddenly, as if he had manifested out of thin air, a little boy appeared and pulled himself into Louis's lap. Louis didn't seem surprised, settling his son, "shouldn't you be in bed?" He asked, "it's pretty late, buddy."

"Can't sleep," he said simply. Fern looked to the man sitting next to his dad, "you're Ford?"

He blinked at the child, "yeah?"

The boy reached out a hand, "Fern," he introduced. 

Ford shook his small hand, still a little unsure of how to respond. 

With that, the boy turned to listen to whatever his ant was saying. Ford was shocked by the short introduction. Fern didn't seem shy or fearful, or even uninterested, just like he liked to keep things short and sweet. Ford couldn't complain, after Abby's energetic onslaught of questions and stories. He seemed like a mellow enough kid, which Ford could appreciate.

It was easy to see Louis's worry he'd been masking all night, and now that Fern was up and there with him, how the worry lifted. How much Louis seemed to relax with Fern in his lap, it was the happiest Ford had seen him. Scratch that, as Louis looked over at Ford, in that appreciative way that boyfriends look at their girlfriends, but now having his son with him— _that_ was the happiest Ford had ever seen him like his world was complete. Ford burned pink, his heart feeling full at the sight, wanting to grab him and kiss him. He would've too if there weren't three other people watching. 

Ford was so happy at the thought that Louis would soon be able to have his son with him all the time soon— the dean wanting him to take the job as soon as next semester, only a couple of months away. Then Louis could get his own place and have Fern—

A thought hit Ford like a brick: Louis won't be living in the dorm anymore. Does that mean he'll be alone in the dorm? Or that next year he'll have to put up with another awful roommate? Not to mention how hard he'll be working and spending time with Fern, not that that's not important, but when will he have time for Ford? This thing they have just started, he didn't want it to stop. He hadn't thought about needing to share Louis more than he already does, he hadn't thought much about the future regarding Louis at all. Would they even still be doing this by next year? 

Louis, who'd been quietly watching Ford, reached a hand between their two lawn chairs to gently and inconspicuously take Ford's hand. 

Looking up at Louis, Ford sure hoped they would still be doing this next year.

———

Ford walked along the street, it was dark and a little cold. As he approached an alley, he heard voices.

"You got my money yet?" A voice said. 

"Listen, I don't exactly have it right now," was that... Stanley? "but I-I got this gold chain, see?" 

"Don't want no chain, Pines," the other voice said, then the sound of a scuffle. Ford looked into the alley, seeing someone pinning Stan to the wall, they had a knife. "Told ya to have it by Thursday."

"I just need a little more time," he sounded strained. 

Ford wanted to cry for help, or run in and help his brother, but he couldn't move. 

Suddenly sirens, flashing lights, police pull up. A voice on the intercom tells them to put their hands up, they're under arrest.

The person who was holding Stan pulls a gun, and immediately the police unload. Time seems to slow as Ford watched the stranger and his twin brother jerk in odd directions as they're filled with bullets. 

When it's over, the person that had been holding his brother fell dead. Stan is still standing, many bullets in many fatal places don't seem to matter as he notices Ford, and hobbles over. 

It's now that Ford sees he's been shot too. Only once, in the stomach. 

Stan, a bullet hole between his eyes, starts reaching to put pressure on Ford's single wound as to help clot it, apologizing to him saying, "you shouldn't have gotten mixed up in this."

Suddenly, Ford's back in his old room, standing in the window and looking down at the street. Stanley got up off the pavement, no bullet holes, Filbrick standing there yelling at him. Their father throws a bag at him, "you're not welcome in this house!" He bellows. 

Stan looks up at his brother in the window, "Stanford," he says, begging, "tell him he's being crazy!"

Here it is, the moment where Ford had the chance to change what he'd just seen. The chance to save Stanley from a dangerous life, the chance to help his brother. 

Filbrick looked up at him, Caryn (when did she get out there?) looked up at him, even baby Shermie in her arms looked up at him.

Stan nodded hopefully, "c'mon, Sixer, tell 'em."

Ford stood there, he couldn't, not after what Stan had done. 

"Well?" Filbrick asked expectantly.

Ford shook his head, drawing the curtains, he will not be suffocated anymore. 

Ford bolted up, tears already running down his face. He breathed heavily as he remembered where he was, on the couch at Marcy's house. He wiped his eyes and stood up, not knowing what to do. He couldn't make sense of his feelings. 

Stan. What was he doing? Was he safe?— He sabotaged Ford's career, he didn't deserve his worry— but he could be in danger out there.

Completely overwhelmed and starting to hyperventilate, his eyes finally landed on the guest room door, where Louis was. 

Louis was shaken awake frantically. He looked to see a very frazzled Ford, talking very quickly about... Something. 

"—And... shot... worried... shouldn't... asshole..." It was hard to glean anything from him. 

Louis put a hand on his arm, "one second, honey, breathe, okay?" He reached to put his hearing aid in. He moved his jaw as he turned back to Ford, who immediately latched onto him in a hug. Louis could feel the vibrations of him still talking, but he couldn't see his mouth anymore. It was hard to hear him being quite quiet, talking very fast, and tears messing with his voice, but Louis could make out a little. 

"I could've.... but it's not like pa... listened... call Ma and see... probably wouldn't talk.... know I shouldn't worry because... but he's my brother... though he... twins are... to stick together...but he ruined... can't forgive... Ma even... thrown out... little harsh?... how could he... selfish, and he didn't... could've just admitted that..."

Louis was trying to make sense of it all as he rubbed Ford's back. Something happened between Ford and his brother— twin brother, and the brother was thrown out, And now they can't talk? Was this the incident Ford was talking about that tore his family apart? Why is he bringing all this up right now? Louis knew nothing about this twin brother and very little about any other of Ford's family members. 

What mattered now is that Ford is really upset, and he came to Louis for comfort, which he intended to give. 

Once Ford stopped talking, Louis pulled him back so he could see him, "what can I do to help you?" He asked gently. 

"Be here with me," he said, still pouring tears. 

Louis nodded, and placed a kiss on his forehead, gently wiping his cheeks with his thumbs. Ford once again tucking himself against Louis.

The taller held him tightly as he laid back down with him, Ford's face pressed tightly into the crook of Louis's neck. Finally, the tears stopped, and his breathing became even, but Louis still held him tight. 

Sleep wouldn't return as easily to Louis that night.

———

The next morning, Ford would wake up extremely, but pleasantly warm. Opening his eyes, he found mostly skin. Oh, it's Louis, he thought sleepily, lips curling into a smile. He moved his head to get even closer, his lips pressed against the skin above Louis's pulse point. When he got no reaction, Ford realized his partner was likely still asleep. Lifting his head, he found his theory correct. Louis was always awake before him, so it was strange to see the peaceful look on his face. Ford's wide hand slid over the other man's chest, feeling the easy rise and fall of his breathing. The smaller took a deep breath, taking in that smell of aftershave and cigarettes. 

Ford decided that as nice as the sight of Louis asleep was, he was better awake. Leaning down, he pressed a slew of sleepy kisses on Louis's face. Those green eyes fluttered open before a giggle came from his throat. "Good morning to you," he mumbled, voice extra raspy from sleep. 

"Morning," Ford returned, grinning. 

Louis hummed and pulled Ford in to kiss him properly, lingering for a bit longer this time. At this, Ford felt his face heat up. "Didja sleep a little better in here?" Louis asked. 

"Yeah," to be honest, he'd forgotten completely about the nightmare, "I think you're lucky," Ford grinned. 

"I sure am," Louis smiled, eyes on Ford. He tightened an arm around Ford's middle, "I like this a lot," he said. "I like _you_ a lot," he pressed a kiss onto Ford's temple, coaxing a giggle out of him. 

Crossing his arms over Louis's chest, Ford rested his chin on top of them to look dreamily up at his partner, "I like you a lot too."

Louis chuckled softly, lacing his fingers into Ford's hair, making him shiver a little. 

Suddenly, the door burst open, " _there_ you are!"Abby said, presumably about Ford, who had bolted away from Louis, and was turning bright red. "Anyway, dad is making breakfast," she announced. "Come get it, before Fern and I eat it all!" Just like that, she was gone again, leaving the door open. 

Ford looked to Louis, who shrugged, before grabbing his glasses and hearing aid. 

Breakfast was delicious, of course. Afterward, Louis helped Nate with the clean-up, Marcy went off to do something with Abby, and Ford was left with Fern for a bit. After a moment of (awkward) silence at the table, Fern got up and asked, "do you like cartoons?"

Ford smiled, nodding. 

The boy waved him into the living room and climbed onto the couch. Ford followed, watching the boy mess with the remote until he found _The Jetsons_. 

And that's how Ford began to bond with the six-year-old about space facts. 

By the time Louis walked over and leaned against the back of the couch between the two, the boy was almost begging Ford to teach him about constellations. 

"I love stars— and I like shapes," Fern explained, "stars making shapes, one plus one, equals fun."

"I'm not much of a teacher," Ford rubbed the back of his neck. 

"That's okay, I'm a good learner," Fern smiled. It was now that he spotted his dad behind him, "Dad, can Ford teach me about stars?"

Louis chuckled, "if he wants to, he's welcome to."

Fern pumped his fist, "yesss," he hissed to himself. 

Ford smiled at his partner, proud to have connected with his son, Louis looked so pleased and proud as well that Ford just about melted at the sight. 

—bonus unfinished scene—

Ford held in a giggle as he watched Abby place a girly flower hat on her uncle, and placing a wig on her cousin. How he himself had escaped the little girl's tea party, he didn't really know but was happy to watch from afar as Louis sipped air from tiny plastic teacups. Louis was made to play some kind of aristocratic lady. Fern on the other hand was meant to play a similar role but insisted he would only be Batman. It made for interesting table conversation. 

"My dear lady," Abby would say to Louis in a terrible posh accent, "would you like more tea?"

"Oh, why yes, I would," Louis would reply in a high-pitched voice. 

The small girl would then turn to Fern, "and you, miss?"

Fern, sitting grumpily would only hold out his cup, "I am the bat," he would say in a deep voice. 

"Good show," Abby would chirp, before asking them questions about their fake lives, (which Louis answered convincingly without much thought, while Fern would only reply 'I am the bat'.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had meant to have a scene where Ford asks Marcy questions about Louis and his past... things like why Louis doesn’t like his birthday, things about his previous marriage, or when he lost his hearing... I also had meant to have more of Fern, bonding with both Louis and Ford... but idk I got kinda lost on this one... 
> 
> I plan on making this a series and it going maybe all the way to weirdmageddeon? So I have big future plans but it’s connecting the dots in between...
> 
> Idk, I also didn’t think anyone would read this or like this story and/or Louis, so thank you to anyone who made it this far and is enjoying this. I appreciate the support. 
> 
> Sorry I’m rambling... trying to get you more soon!


	9. Happy Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winter break is here, yay....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: homophobic family members, homophobic slurs, shadow of implied child abuse
> 
> edited: stuff changed or added to

Holiday break had been... rough. Between being worried that his parents would somehow find out about Louis, Filbrick being the ass he was, and Caryn just  _having_ to update Ford on what his twin was up to (it wasn't surprising that he'd been chased out of the state already, what with his ridiculous cons).

Then there was the conversation at his first dinner 'back home'. Filbrick had been notified of the room change and had expected an explanation.

Ford cleared his throat nervously, "the uh, the guy they first put me with was terrible. I could hardly get anything done in my dorm before, he was distracting and dirty. Not being able to get anything done in there meant I spent long hours in the library, which lead me to meet Louis. He's a uh, library hand in there, carries most of the library on his back," under the table, he wrung his hands. He didn't want to let anything slip, he had always been a lousy liar. "Next year he's even going to become the head librarian there," he offered. He wanted to convey that Louis wasn't some idiot, that he was a smart man with tangible goals.

Filbrick hummed, suspiciously, but let it go.

Caryn, however, perked up at all this. "Head librarian, you two must really get along," she offered.

"Yeah," Ford smiled, "we met while I was looking over a copy of _20,000 Leagues Under the Sea_ , he'd read it too— his son's even named after Jules Verne!"

"Son?" his mother echoed, not unkindly, "how old is he?"

Ford hesitated for a moment, maybe that wasn't the best piece of info to share, or maybe it would help draw less attention to anything between them. "His boy will be seven in February, Louis is 23."

Caryn hummed, "so he's married?"

He was mentally scolding himself now, "well, he was," he said, in a small voice.

Upon Ford expressing that he was nervous about seeing family, and wished that Louis could be there with him, Louis had draped that brick red denim jacket over his shoulders, telling him to take it with him. He'd been thankful for the gesture before, but now, as he tucked himself into it, smelling that Louis smell, he was _infinitely_ more grateful. (Even though when he walked through the door and his mother had hugged him, she had asked him if he'd started smoking, smelling Louis's Pall Mall reds in contrast to the cigars Pa smokes, and her Marlboro menthols.)

"That's okay, too," Caryn shrugged, "sometimes divorce is the best answer."

He saw Filbrick visibly stiffen at this.

"I take it this Louis is a really good influence on you, then," Caryn moved on, ignoring her husband's reaction (so Ford tried to ignore it too, Filbrick Pines did not like to be cornered).

"He is," Ford agreed, "hell, he even takes me to the diner once a week to make sure I eat more than just apples and granola bars," he chuckled, he was probably letting too much slip and hoped he wasn't getting red, (especially since the last dinner they had before break ended with the two making out like teenagers).

"Sounds like you two are close," his mother smiled.

Filbrick grunted, "yeah, let's hope not _too_ close."

Ford sputtered, definitely red now, straightening (as if the action would help him be 'straighter').

Caryn glared at him, "please, Filbrick, of course, that's not—“

Her husband cut her off, "you seeing any _girls_ up at that college of yours?"

Ford cleared his throat, he knew he needed to act somewhat calm, if he kept acting like a jumpy nervous wreck they'd find him out for sure.

He didn't exactly want to get tossed on the street tonight, even though Louis _had_ offered him an escape for the break and a spot at the table at his family's Christmas in case Hanukkah with the Pines family got to be too much. Ford had never taken part in a Christmas before, and he would much rather be with Louis and his family right now than sitting across the kitchen table from Filbrick. The image of Abby tearing through colorful paper. She’d be excited about whatever she got, dancing around and singing the way she did when she was excited. A contrast to Fern, being happy and thankful but showing it in a gasp or a fist pump. Fern pouring thank yous, and Marcy having to remind Abby to say the words. Ford remembered Louis had gotten his niece some art supplies and a couple of cute little dresses he knew she'd love, as she was very into fashion— what she called "twirlin' dresses" to be exact. For his son, Louis had gotten him some new comics and some polished stones, and a sizable chunk of bismuth, which was the boy's favorite. Louis had gotten his sister some new records, and for his brother-in-law, he'd gotten a new apron and new cutting knife. Ford only knew this because he'd been there when Louis had neatly wrapped the gifts.

Ford schooled his features, and tried to answer the question with the most confidence he could muster, "actually, yes."

Caryn lit up, grabbing her son's arm excitedly, squealing like a schoolgirl. Filbrick on the other hand only raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't want to say anything because we've only been on a few dates," this was a page straight out of Evan's boyfriend's book, but as long as it got Ford through the visit he didn't care. Parker, Ford remembered his name was, was still closeted and was great at lying through his teeth about seeing girls.

"What's her name?" Filbrick asked, looking for any sign that Ford was lying.

"Jenny," Ford answered without missing a beat. Stanley would've been proud.

"When do we get to meet her?" Caryn asked excitedly.

Ford shrugged, "I don't know, we're still kind of figuring out things between us," he rubbed the back of his neck shyly to help sell it.

Filbrick grunted, but let it go.

Ford changed the subject, "so, Pa, how're things with the shop?"

"Fine," he replied, "'s gonna be much better once you're back here this summer," he looked coldly at his son, something in his voice dared Ford to protest.

He tensed, "w-who said I was coming back this summer?"

Filbrick squeezed his fork in a meaty fist, "my money paying for your schooling, that's who."

Ford opened his mouth to protest, but a thin foot kicked him softly under the table, reminding him that that wouldn't go well. He sighed, he didn't even want to be here for the break, let alone three months during their busiest season. Three months away from Louis. Maybe he could get a weekend off to go and visit him and his family, wishful thinking if Ford was being honest.

The rest of the break was about as okay as it could be with Filbrick around. Despite his sporadic prying over the break, he couldn't find anything wrong with Stanford's 'Jenny' alibi. Something in his gut just didn't sit right with Stanford's new roommate and this Jenny, but eventually, he decided to let it go.

The shop was open for a good deal of break, Filbrick was like that, and of course, Ford had to work in it. He hated every second of it.

There was an upside, though. He'd found the perfect gift for Louis. With much suspicion from his father, he finally agreed that if Stanford does some extra chores around the house and the shop he could have it. In secret, Ford asked Caryn to wrap it for him, knowing there was no way he could do it neatly.

At last, the winter break was over, and he could return to Louis.

The drive back to Backupsmore felt long. He'd missed Louis so much over the last two weeks. He found it was harder to sleep without him, having been sleeping in the same bed with him since everything happened. The jacket helped, he didn't take it off other than to shower his entire visit. Every insufferable and tense minute at the shop he wanted nothing more than for Louis to reach over and lace their fingers together the way he did when he knew Ford was stressed. At the end of each day when he returned to his room (the bunk beds there a constant reminder of Stan), he wanted Louis to come in and give him coffee, then pull him into his lap and ask him what happened.

When Ford pulled back into the BMU parking lot, he realized he was happy to be back, a feeling he hadn't felt returning to Glass Shard Beach. He pulled his duffle bag from the back seat and walked briskly to the dorm building. On the way, he passed Evan, who stopped him.

“How’re things going with tall deaf and handsome?” He asked quietly.

Ford chuckled at the nickname,cheeks turning pink, “well,” he said shortly. 

“You uh...” he wiggled his eyebrows, “‘ _you know_ ’ yet?”

Ford blinked, “I don’t know.”

Even rolled his eyes, “I take it you haven’t yet.”

“Haven’t..?” After a beat, Ford’s eyes widened, “Evan, geez, no.”

He chuckled, “okay, okay.” He put his hands up in surrender, “was just a question. Hey, my offer still stands for when that gets closer.”

Ford took the bait, “what is the offer, exactly?”

Evan shrugged, “teach you a couple of things, answer your weird virgin questions, I dunno. Bottoms especially need a senior gay to show them the ropes.”

“Bottoms...?”

“Oh, Jesus. I’ve really got my work cut out for me with you, don’t I?”

Ford raised an eyebrow, “who said I’m your responsibility?”

“Oh, yeah, Ford. _Please_ , have your pick from any of the out and proud bottoms that will give you the time of day to teach you shit,” he gestured broadly to the empty space around him, to emphasize the lack of gays that were around and out of the closet.

“Okay okay, I get it,” Ford huffed. “Why can’t Louis just teach me whatever?”

Evan rubbed his temples, “do you really think Louis can tell you how to clean your ass?”

Ford turned bright red and was about to say something when a raspy voice came from behind them. “I could probably figure it out if I needed to.” Evan and Ford turned, to find Louis raising an eyebrow at them. As if his sudden appearance wasn’t shocking enough, hand clasped in his own, there was little Fern. Louis pointed to his ear, “new hearing aid,” he said as if that explained why he’d answered so nonchalantly.

Fern smiled up at Ford, “hello,” he greeted.

“Hey, Louis,” Evan greeted casually. “Who’s the tyke?”

“Louis,” Ford squeaked, hoping Louis wasn’t mad or didn’t think he was weird. He cleared his throat and smiled at the little boy, “hi, Fern.”

Louis chuckled, he quickly introduced Evan to his son, putting his arm on the top of Ford’s head and leaning on him a little. A way they could be touching without it being too obvious to an onlooker that they were gay as hell.

Ford was too stunned at the arrival of the Parrish boys to be able to question it right yet.

“How’re things with your man?” Louis asked Evan.

He shrugged, “okay, I guess.”

He hummed, “I know you, Evan. I know that means it’s going shitty.”

Evan shrugged again, “it ain’t gonna be much longer.”

“Sorry about that, Ev,” he offered a sympathetic smile.

“Well, hey, at least you won’t have to put up with me this time,” Evan said, carefully dancing around why that was or what he meant with the presence of the kid.

Louis laughed, “yeah, yeah. I didn’t mean to interrupt your guys’ little tea party. Carry on,” he waved his hand in a dismissive gesture before leading Fern into his shared dorm, throwing Ford a little wink before disappearing inside.

The two left in the hallway were silent for a moment, before bursting out in laughter, “holy shit,” Evan wheezed. “I thought he was gonna kill me.”

“I hope he isn’t mad,” Ford returned.

Evan waved him off, “nah, Louis is pretty chill. If anything he’d be mad at me for ‘putting pressure on you’, or whatever.”

Ford chuckled, “it’s okay. Um... I would like your advice on it at some point, I think,” he said. He didn’t like not knowing things, and there was clearly some information he was missing. That, and he wanted to impress Louis when the time came.

Evan threw his hands up, happily, “I never get to coach baby gays anymore!” He squealed. “I can’t wait.”

Ford shook his head, man, this dude was weird.

“I’m sure you’re tired,” Evan offered, “I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Sure, Evan. We’ll talk,” he called, before heading into his dorm.

He found Louis at the counter, unwrapping a heaping plate of cookies. He handed one to his son, and the boy trotted off to sit on Louis’s bed. Ford smiled, heading over to his partner. Christmas cookies, Ford figured. Decorated (mostly by Abby, probably) shapes of Christmas trees, holly, bells, and— “are those bats?”

Louis chuckled, “yes, Ford. Those are bats,” he said fondly, and wrapped an arm about his boyfriend.

He nodded towards the little boy with a quirked eyebrow. Ford already knew the answer.

“I am the bat,” Louis replied.

The two chuckled, each grabbing a cookie and eating them. Ford smiled and wished he could have some fresh.

It was then that Fern got up, and headed into the bathroom.

As soon as the door was shut, Louis leaned down, pressing a kiss to Ford’s mouth. Resting their foreheads together, Louis sighed, wrapping his arms around Ford’s waist. “How’d it go?” He asked.

Ford shrugged, “my dad’s vaguely onto us, my ma is excited to meet a girl I’ve been seeing that isn’t real, and my baby brother is crawling now,” he leaned into Louis. “Also, I don’t sleep too well without you now,” he sighed.

Louis hummed, “wish I coulda been there, but I don’t think that would’ve gone well.”

Ford chuckled, arms coming up over Louis’s slender shoulders, fingers lacing behind his neck. “How about yours?” Glancing towards the bathroom.

He sighed, “I don’t think I’m ever gonna talk to Marcy again, but I gotta figure things out for Fern. He refused to go back, and after... _everything_ , I didn’t really want him going back.”

Ford was taken aback, they seemed pretty close. “What happened?”

“She invited our mother to Christmas without telling either of us that the other was gonna be there. I tried to be civil with her, for the kids' sakes, you know. But uh...” he looked down. “When you call me a faggot in front of them it’s a little hard to sit and take that.”

“Louis, I’m so sorry,” Ford said quietly.

He scoffed, “that’s not even the worst part,” he looked away, “I never told you why I’m at Backupsmore, did I?” He asked quietly.

Ford shook his head no.

“Long story short, my ma had a lot of connections through many schools. When I got divorced, she decided if I wanted to be a public gay, she wanted me to be treated like a public gay,” he shrugged, “I’m sure you can put together the rest.”

“Jesus,” a family member sabotaging his future, it sounded too familiar for Ford. At least Stan might have a little moral wiggle room, this was purposely malicious on any level.

“Anyway, it came up over the break, and Marcy agreed that it was ‘the right thing to do’.”

“She _what_?” He couldn’t believe his ears.

When Louis had demanded she explain what the hell she meant by that, she only made it worse. Her reason for agreeing with their mother's actions was not only about how his career as a librarian was much more promising and better compromised with the fact that he was a single parent, but how his potential research into homosexuality would've only made life worse for him. She explained that not only would he be a laughing stock in the professional world, but he would probably just disprove his own hypothesis that he was _not_ sick. His sister that had been an ally to him for these things since they were teenagers, threw it all away in two minutes by agreeing that he was indeed sick and therefore didn't deserve a proper career.

“Yeah, so Fern and I went elsewhere for the rest of the holiday,” Louis looked defeated. A little chuckle left him, “then there was my six-year-old telling his ant and grandma, ‘fuck you guys’.”

Fern might not have grasped the gravity of what his grandmother had done, but he sure as hell knew it was bad. He knew it had been a problem for his dad, and he knew it was at least part of the reason that they lived the way they did. Part of the reason his dad lived so far, and could only visit on the weekends, why he worked so much and still was technically homeless once school was out. And now, because Grandma and Ant Marcy suck, Fern needed to move and change schools much sooner than he was supposed to. He guessed that wasn’t the worst thing.

“Okay, that’s priceless,” Ford chuckled a little too. He pulled apart from Louis, hearing the water running and figuring Fern would be out in a second.

“I gotta talk to the Dean about it, but he might be here with us for a bit,” he sighed, “sorry I couldn’t tell you ahead of time. I hope that’s okay.”

As Fern left the bathroom, he moved over to a Batman backpack to pull out some comic books and sit on the floor, Ford looked back at Louis, “I think I can handle that,” he smiled.

“Thanks,” he squeezed Ford’s shoulder gently. He lingered for a second, before turning to his boy, “alright, buddy. You wanna go meet Mr. Smith like we talked about?” 

Fern shrugged and got up, and stopped by Ford, “thank you,” he smiled. 

Ford smiled down at him and nodded. 

———

Finally, Fern was asleep. The kid was a little insomniac, poor thing. He was tucked into his dad’s bed, breathing softly, with a comic dangling from his fingers.

Louis and Ford sat against the wall on the shorter’s bed. Ford shifted, getting comfortable against the other. “So the Dean’s okay with this?” Gesturing to the little boy.

Louis gave a so-so gesture. “He’s letting it happen. What other choice do I have?” He sighed, “he told me to forget about semester testing. I just need to focus on getting ready to be the new June. So I guess I really am full-time after the semester. Got a meeting with everybody tomorrow where they’re gonna tell her.”

“How will that go?”

“I’ll be lucky if she doesn’t climb over the table to smack me,” he shrugged. “Maybe she’ll tell my future boss he shouldn’t hire me ‘cause I’m a deaf fag.”

“What’ll happen then?” Ford asked.

“Pssh, like it’d be news to him,” Louis laughed, “it’s Backupsmore, they don’t have a lot of options.”

Ford shrugged, supposing he was right.

“Fern and I will get someplace temporary soon, I guess. I gotta enroll him in school out here.”

Ford was quiet for a second. “Hey, Louis?”

He hummed for him to continue.

“So... when you get your new place, and we’re not living together anymore... how are we gonna...”

“Well I didn’t say you couldn’t live there too,” he offered.

Ford reddened, “well yeah, but I don’t think I can pull that off with my folks.”

“That’s okay,” Louis gave him a little squeeze, “don’t worry, I’m always gonna make time for you, baby,” he whispered, before kissing his temple. “We’ll still go out to the diner once a week, I’ll probably bug you a lot up here,and you can still hang out at my place.” He leaned closer to Ford’s ear, “besides, I’m sure ‘ _sleepovers_ ’ will ensue at some point,” he winked.

Ford was bright red, “Louis!” He squeaked.

Louis chuckled and shrugged. After a beat, he lit up, “oh, hey, I almost forgot.” He reached into his messenger bag laying on the bed, “I know you’re not much of a religion guy, and I’m not either, but...” he pulled out a neatly wrapped gift, putting it into Ford’s hands. “Happy... winter, I guess,” he gave a lopsided smile.

“Louis,” he breathed, about to say something about how he didn’t have to, then remembered the small box in his pocket, and bit his tongue. He grabbed it out, placing the present in Louis’s hands, “happy winter.” The box labeled ‘Stanford’ in Louis’s handwriting was long, thin, and tall, wrapped in red, and had a white ribbon bow on it. Louis watched as he unwrapped it, revealing it was actually three boxes. The first two of them were bottles of ink, in black and red. In the last, was a long, flat tin case, bearing his name, it had to be custom. Inside the case was a feather quill dip pen. Ford’s eyes shined, he did love his stationary. He looked up at Louis, before pulling him into a tight hug. “I love it, Louis,” he huffed. “Thank you.”

He chuckled, “I’m glad you like it.”

Ford grinned up at him, before motioning for Louis to open his.

The flat, rectangular box was wrapped in blue, with a silver tape-on bow on top. Freeing the box of the paper, he also found an envelope under it. He opened the box first and gasped. Lifting it out of the box, he let it dangle by its chain to get a proper look at it. A silver pocket watch, with an engraving of a Kraken etched into the face cover. He opened it, seeing the visible gears of the timepiece. Open, it audibly ticked, which he found upon lifting the piece to the mic on his hearing aid.

A secret love of Louis’s was watches and clocks. He’d expressed once off-handedly that he used to have a pocket watch, and how much he loved it, “makes me kinda feel like a supervillain or something,” he had joked. One of his favorite sounds in the world was the ticking of a timepiece.

He gave a smile, “Ford, this is beautiful,” he breathed, “thank you.” Gave him a meaningful kiss, as if through the connection of their lips he could send a telekinetic message to his partner about how much he appreciated him. He squeezed the other tightly in a hug. Upon separating, Louis took the watch off of his wrist and tossed it off somewhere. He clipped the new watch onto a belt loop of his slacks, putting it in his front pocket.

Ford smiled fondly, before noticing the envelope that was also in the box still sitting on the bed. On it, scrawled in loopy handwriting was ‘Lewis’. He supposed he should’ve expected something like this since he hadn’t watched her wrap the gift.

Louis picked up the envelope, a little smile on his lips, “okay, that’s adorable,” he chuckled, “your mom?” He asked Ford.

The smaller nodded, not knowing what to expect. 

Louis carefully opened it and pulled out two things. A tarot card, and a folded-up piece of paper.

The card was “the Emperor”, pictured on it was a man in robes sitting on a throne, wearing a crown and holding a scepter. Louis smiled and unwrapped the paper that was with it. He read it softly out loud.

“Lewis,

“I had my favorite deck of tarot cards in front of me when Stanford asked me to wrap this for you. I immediately knew I needed to read for you.

“This card is the Emperor. It means you are a stable and secure individual. You work hard, and it’s paying off for you. You’re a leader, you’re taking charge in your life. If you’ve recently made some decisions in your life, this card means you’re making the right ones. (At least that’s my interpretation).

“Thank you for being there for my Stanford.

“Happy Hanukkah, Lewis.

“—Caryn Pines.”

Ford blinked, “sometimes she hits the nail on the head, I guess.”

Louis chuckled.

“But she totally didn’t have her deck in front of her when I asked her, she was cooking dinner,” he told Louis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone really want smut out of this or no? Show of hands.
> 
> edit: sorry the stuff with Marcy didn't make a lot of sense before... hopefully it's better.


End file.
